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^hahmotoj) tme mmiA mmm 



PHEASANT PATHWAYS; 



OB, 



PERSUASIVES TO EARLY PIETY 



CONTAINING 



EXPLANATIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE BEAUTY, SAFETY, 
AND PLEASANTNESS OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE: 



AN EAENE8T ATTEMPT TO PERStTADE YOUNG PEOPLE OP BOTH SEXES TO SEEK 
HAPPINESS IN THE LOVE AND SERVICE OP JESUS CHRIST. 



By DANIEL WISE, 

AUTHOR OP '« THE PATH OP LIFE," « YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELOR," ETC., BTO. 



" Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." 



SIXTH T H O U SAl^?"'''''^'"''^^ ' ^ 



f/ 

PUBLISHED BY OARLTON & PORTER, 

200 MULBERRY-STREET. vj^ ^ 



'BV^ 53/ 
' W5 5 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, 
BY CARLTON & POUTER, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern 
District of New York. 



I n s t r i g t i n. 

TO THE 

YOUNG PEOPLE OF AMERICA GENERALLY, 

BUT PARTICULARLY TO THOSE WHOSE EARLY YEARS HATE BEEN BLESSED 

WITH THE PIOUS INSTKUCT10^•S OF A GODLY HOME AND 

OF A CHRISTIAN SUNDAY SCHOOL, 

THIS WORK 

IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THEIR SINCERE FRIEND AND 
WELL-WISHER, 

DANIEL WISE. 



PREFACE. 



There are many excellent books in the world, 
written for the purpose of leading young people into 
the way of peace. They all have their mission, and 
are all contributing their meed of help in preparing 
our youth to be polished stones in the Lord's build- 
ing. Yet inasmuch as many of them are written in 
a spirit so stern, or in a style so grave, as to be 
without attraction sufficient to command the atten- 
tion of unawakened youth generally, I have long 
thought that a volume, made attractive by the 
abundance and interest of its illustrations, yet dealing 
pungently with the conscience, and appealing faithfully 
to the hopes and fears of the young mind, might be 
instrumental in reaching some erring but precious 
young souls who are inaccessible to the influence 
of kindred works. This conviction led me to plan 
and to commence this book some six years ago. My 



6 PEEFACE. 

editorial and other duties hindered its completion, 
until, moved by daily reflection on the brevity and 
uncertainty of life, and by a desire to plead in Christ's 
behalf with as many of the youth of my times as 
possible, I employed the spare moments of the past 
year in bringing it to a conclusion. That I have 
reached the height of my purpose, or equaled the 
excellence of Baxter, Alleine, Doddridge, or Pike, I 
have not the vanity to presume ; that I have sincerely 
attempted to win some jewels for my Master's crown 
from among the millions of our great nation's youth, 
I am clearly conscious. With this consciousness, I 
send forth my unpretending book — a modest messen- 
ger of love — spraying that it may be an evangel to 
many hearts, and the guide of thousands into "ways 
of pleasantness and paths of peace." d. w. 

283 Adelphi-street, Brooklyn, ) 
January, 1859. ) 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER L 

THE BUBBLE BURST. 

The unhappy Comedian — Hypocrisy of Woridlings — The Au- 
thor's Apology — The Eeader's Choice — The Child and the 
Bubble — The World a Bubble — The Figure of Dust — Bewitch- 
ing Dreams — Dissolved Enchantments — A Supposition and its 
Application — The Soul's Spirituality unfits it to be satisfied 
with the World — The European Voyage — The Soul's future 
Wants — A Madman's Folly — The Emigrant — Competent Wit- 
nesses to the World's InsufS.ciency — Solomon — Gelimer — 
Saladin — Horatio Nelson — Talleyrand — A gay Sinner — 
Voices of Experience — The great Problem — Appeal . Page 13 

CHAPTER II. 

HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE. 

The Caliph and the broken Casket of Pearls — The Ethiop's 
Fidelity — A Difi'erence between the Christian and the Worldling 
stated — A Truth unfolded — A dangerous Idea exposed — 
Enjoyment not the chief End of Life — How Happiness is won — 
The Enjoyment of this World not denied to the Pious — What 
Piety forbids, and what it requires — The Worldling and Chris- 
tian contrasted — A Problem solved — An old Fable — Its Appli- 
cation — The Pious Man's Advantage stated — Poetic Extract — 
Dr. Adam Clarke's Opinion — Mahmoud and the Idol at Som- 
nat — How to enjoy the World — A Plea — Poetic Extract. 83 

CHAPTER III. 

SOCIAL HAZARDS OF A SINFUL LIFE. 

Dr. Dodd — His early Prospects — His Temptations — His Weak- 
ness — His Fall — His ignominious Death — Dr. Dodd the Type 



8 CONTEKTS. 

of a Class^The Eeader's Inqniiy — The young "Worldling's 
Danger — The Keader' s Doubt — Sisera in the Tent of Jael — The 
Worldling's Jael — Deceptiveness of Sin — The Peiil of a sinful 
Life — Dr. Dodd's first Step to Euin — Folly the first Step in 
every downward Career — A weak Point in every human Char- 
acter — Poetical Extract — The greatest of Flatterers — A Scene 
from History — The only true Protector refused — Is a well-edu- 
cated but enslaved Conscience a reliable Protection ? — Pride of 
Character — The fool-hardy Douglass — Unexpected Foes — 
Anxm- and ^neas — A Caution — Benedict Arnold — Lack of 
present Inchnation for great Sins no Proof of Safety — The 
Tiger's Cub — Moral Habits — When rehable — Selfish Morality 
not reliable — An Ancient Tale— A Test proposed — Probable 
result — Words of Entreaty — Extract from Quarles 47 

CHAPTER IV. 

LINKED ARMOR FOR TEMPTED YOUNG SOULS. 

Napoleon's Habit of Precaution — Precaution in the Campaign of 
Life urged — The only reliable Means of Victory — The Weav- 
er's Apprentice — The Missionary — Effect of regenerated Life 
on the Conscience — Poetic Extracts — High Self-respect be- 
gotten by Keligion — Its restraining Power — Love to Christ — 
The sick young Noble and the loving Peasant Boy — Ee- 
straining Power of Divine Love — Eutherford — Paul — Poetic 
Extract — Beautiful Idea from Job — Colonel Gardner — Words 
of Persuasion 72 

CHAPTER V. 

THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE. 

Sayings of Emerson, Longfellow, Bishop Hall, and Holy Writ — 
Trouble every Man's inevitable Destiny — A grave Question — 
A Case of Commercial Shipwreck supposed — Is Strength of 
Mind sufficient in great Trials ? — The two Merchant Princes — 
Napoleon at Borodino — The Sympathy of Friends — Its proba- 
ble Worth — Poetic Extract — Uncertain Value of human 
Friendships — Bereavements — The Widow's Hearth-stone 
Desolated — x\ comfortless Heart — Saying of an impatient 
Lady — Of Euripides — Of a bereaved Deist ~ Dogged submis- 



CONTENTS. 9 

sion described — The Dragon with many Heads — The Chris- 
tian in Affliction — Napoleon at Wagram — Mental Eepose in 
Trouble — The Dew-drop that became a Pearl — Pity's Inter- 
pretation of Affliction — The Hunter and the Honey- bird — 
Another use of Afaiction — Servulus — Its all right, Father — 
Christian Submission — "Words of Entreaty 86 

CHAPTER VI. 

PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 

Curious Legend — The March of Sinful Deeds through a guilty 
Heart — The Inheritance of the Christian — Peace of God de- 
scribed — Poetic Extract — The Child and its Dead Mother's 
Picture — Love of Christ — The principal Thing in Piety — The 
Love of God described — Augustine — An Old Man sitting in 
God's Shadow — Eutherford's Love — What Divine Love does 

— The rich Landholder and the simple Peasant — Hope — Its 
Eaptures — Peculiarity of a Christian's Hope — Earthly Hope 
compared with the Heavenly — Sublime conception of Hope by 
a Deaf Mute — Eutherford's Hope — The Pleasure of Victory — 
Napoleon at Paris 108 

CHAPTER VII. 

HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 

The two Ships — The Storm — The Wreck— The Arrival— Op- 
posite Destinies — What every Mortal's Life must be — Death 
near at hand — Extract from Schiller — An unpleasant Theme — 
Eachel's Death-bed — The Fisherman's fear — Two Pacts which 
make it unpleasant for Sinners to think of Death — Christian 
Views of Death — Poetic Extract — A priceless Blessing — 
What must it be to die ? — An unconscious Death — Terrible 
awakening in Eternity — Fearlessness of some wicked Men in 
their Death — Gibbon — Hume — Nelson — Ney — The Girond- 
ists — Napoleon — A Contrast — Indifference to Death explained 

— The Sleeper on the Volcano's Breach — The bold Sinner in 
Eternity — The Shadow of the Second Death — Goethe's Death- 
bed — Foretastes of Damnation — Extract from Blair — A Sin- 
ner's dying Cry of Despair — Cardinal Mazarin — Voltaire — 



10 CONTENTS. 

Paine — Eandolph — Hobbes — Bell — Chaloner — A good Man's 
Death delightful — Mrs. Hamhne — Dr. Moore's Patients — 
Montmorency — Golding — An old Man on the Brink of Jordan 

— Degrees of Triumph — Words of Exhortation — A Christian's 
Death-song 126 

CHAPTER VIII. 

LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE. 

A charming Spectacle — Outward bound Ships and their Desti- 
nies — The Fates of Men — The Soul immortal — The Insect's 
Task, an Illustration — Greatness of the human Soul — A pain- 
ful Spectacle — A prosperous Sinner in Hell — A representative 
Character — The Nature of the Kich Man's Torment — Sin the 
Fuel of Hell-fire — Pangs of a guilty Conscience in this Life — 
Sir Walter Scott's Confession — The sick Youth — Eev. C. Sim- 
eon — The half-drowned Man — The Murderer — Conscience 
itself a Hell — Milton's Archangel — Hell an Association of lost 
Souls — A startling Thought — ^ Heaven visible to the Lost — 
The Judgment Day — Appeals — Eternal Life — Views from the 
Land of Beulah — How the Souls of Behevers reach Heaven — 
Carried by Angels — The bhssful Thought of Safety — The 
Introduction to heavenly Society — Eaptures of the Saved — A 
Soul's first Hour in Heaven — Things unknown — A Consolation 

— Fullness of Joy — What must it be to be there ? 147 

CHAPTER IX. 

I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 

Parable of the Supper — Disinclination the Parent of Excuses — 
Reason for considering Excuses — Dread of prospective Duties 

— The young Man who felt he should be called to preach — 
A Warning — Appeals — Ditnculties vanish when the Heart is 
converted — Fear of Persecution — Fear a fearful thing — Ad- 
miral B}Tig — G-eueral Wolfe — Eepresentative Facts — Appeals 

— The Rain-drop and the Granite — Persecution yields to Res- 
olution — The young Man and his angry Father — The young 
Lady and her Betrothed — Courage necessar}' — Excuses of the 
Gay and Mirtliful — The gay Lady's three Pleasures — Folly 
of rejecting Religion for the World — How God often deals with 



CONTENTS. 11 

such — The young Lady who lost her Soul for a Ball — Fear of 
Failure considered — God seeks to save — Alexander the Great 
— Earnest Eesolution needed — Words of Exhortation 171 

CHAPTER X. 

THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 

The Prisoner and the fatal Cistern — A Picture of the Eeader's 
relations to Eternity — Terror of his Condition — Scene in the 
Carthagenian Senate — The great Choice — Wickedness of the 
Procrastinator — BLis danger — The Eedcross Knight — Enervat- 
ing effect of Procrastination — The Maiden and her Elowers — 
Procrastination Beguiles — The Hoary Fool — Fate of a young 
Heir — A young Lady cut off — God is in earnest — Presump- 
tion Provokes God — The point of Peril — The Lady who was 
past Feeling — The doomed old Man— The Gay young Man's 
Death — Pleasant Floating — The scoffing Procrastinator — The 
young Soldier's Death-bed — Motives to Decision — Love of 
Jesus — Efforts of Jesus — Self-love — Love of others — Eegard 
for Parents — A Father's agony over the loss of his Son's Soul 
— Words of entreaty 192 

CHAPTER XL 

VOICES OF DUTY. 

Nelson's Signal and Napoleon's Proclamation compared — Motives 
ennoble Actions — The Motive of Duty — Frederick the Great 
and the Miller — Eights and Duties Eeciprocal — God's Eights 
as the Owner of Souls — Men's Duties as Creatures — Sin view- 
ed in the light of God's claims — The Ungrateful Guest — The 
Grateful Servant — The claims of a Benefactor on the Gratitude 
of the benefitted Parties — God a Benefactor — Duty of grateful 
Service — The Boy who saved his Mother's Life — Special Bene- 
fits impose special Obligations — God as a Eedeemer — His 
special claim on Man Eedeemed — God should be Loved and 
Served for what he is in Himself— The Monk and the Picture — 
Effect of Spiritual Illumination on our Views of God's Character 
— The more we See of God the less we think of Self — Ee- 
surae of Motives — Words of Entreaty 221 



12 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XII. 

WHAT SHALL I DO BE SAVED? 

Warren Hastings — Resolution to be* saved urged — The Magis- 
trate's Purpose — The lUustration applied — A Resolution to 
seek God possible — He is urged to put forth his Power — The 
Resolution signed — Joy in Heaven — The Reader conducted 
to the Cross that he may study himself — The Readers past Life 
portrayed — The Reader's exceeding Wickedness illustrated 

— The highest Proof of Depravity — Confession of Sin urged 

— Springs of Penitence unsealed — A Penitential Cry — A DifB.- 
culty suggested — A Search for favorite Sins Advised — A Divine 
Light — Restitution — Sinful Business to be abandoned — Per- 
tinent Pacts — The Man who Stole a Bag of Dollars — Effects of 
Restitution on his Spirit — Restitution necessary to Pardon — 
What the Spirit taught Freeborn Garrettson — Emancipation 
necessary to Pardon — A Message from God — A shocking Crop 
— ^Distiller's Promise — The Penitent urged to believe 244 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 

Miss Lajolais and the Emperor — Not Justice but Pardon — Re- 
generation given with Pardon — Faith saves — What is saving 
Faith — Touching the Hem of Christ's Garment — The Action of 
saving Faith described — The Highland Boy's Faith in his 
Father — Putting his Soul into Christ's hands to be pardoned — 
The dying Child's Faith — God's Promise the Rope that Jesus 
holds — The sick King and the Prophet's Medicine — Christ's 
blood Medicine for the Soul — How Faith applies it — A 
South Sea Islander's Conception of Faith — Rev. Charles 
Simeon's Faith — Christ the Sinner's Scape-Goat — Different 
Expressions of the same Idea — Reliance upon Christ alone 
the principal Thing in Faith — An Allegorical Illustration — 
Taking Christ's Hand and putting the Hand into his — No 
Merit in Repentance or Faith — Christ's Blood alone saves — 
The Sailor's Faith — Just as I am — The Penitent encouraged 
to believe — Pardon found — The Song of the saved Soul — 
The Hvmn of Faith — Farewell to the Reader 267 



PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE BUBBLE BUEST. 

A CELEBRATED and highly popular comedian once 
waited upon a physician with a request to be cured 
of an overpowering melancholy. " Go," advised the 
medical gentleman, "go to the theater and witness 
the comic performances of " 

"Alas!" replied his patient, "I am that comedian! 
I make others merry, but, while they are laughing at 
the sallies of my wit, my own heart is as unmoved 
as a stone. Amid the laughter of delighted multi- 
tudes I remain the most sad and miserable of beings 
myself!" 

How true to the experience of all worldlings is 
this picture of the comedian's heart! He was a 



14 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

hypocrite in his pleasantries : so are all gay sinners. 
Their eyes flash, their lips smile, their tongues utter 
sparkling jests, but their hearts silently sigh over a 
conscious vacuity which they vainly implore the 
world to fill. Their consciences sting them for de- 
grading spiritual capacities, capable of grasping the 
Infinite, to the Dead Sea of sensuality, and for casting 
away eternal life at the bidding of bodily appetites 
and passions. But in vain does the soul sigh and the 
conscience sting. The sinner will have his delights. 
He hides his misery. He dances, sings, jests; his 
merry laugh rings through the air, and his compan- 
ions in sin, wondering, think him happy. They will 
not believe his laugh, like theirs, is sepulchral, and 
therefore they envy him his felicity. He too, in his 
turn, is deceived by the merriment of his companions, 
and envies them. Thus, all envy, all laugh, all are 
deceived ; all are hypocrites in their sinful pleasantries. 
Start not, dear reader, from this image of your 
heart! The fault is not in my mirror but in your 
character. The most ill-featured person is willing to 
gaze upon his own face in the glass, and surely you 
will be equally ready to behold your moral features ; 
especially as the hand of a friend holds the mirror, 



THE BUBBLE BURST. 15 

and the motive which prompts him to hold it is the 
high regard he has for your best interests. If he 
reveals the strange defeatures sin has wrought upon 
you, it is only to lead you to One who has power to 
obliterate them and to cover you with divine beauty ; 
to Him who can fill the vacuum in your heart, silence 
its sighings, heal its wounds, and who can create a 
calm, sweet smile upon your lips which shall be the 
true index of your feelings. Give me, therefore, your 
hand, your heart, your serious attention, and I will 
reason with you concerning the things which make for 
your peace. 

You have chosen the world. The things of this life 
are your glory, your delight, your supreme good. 
Your pleasures, your hopes, your thoughts, all center 
on the things which are seen. You are devoted to the 
world ; yea, chained to it, as the corpse of Hector was 
bound to the chariot of Achilles on the plain of Troy. 
You are at once its admirer and its captive, for " to 
whom ye yield yourselves servants to ohey^ his serv- 
ants ye areP Permit me to show you your chosen 
deity in his true character. 

Yonder on the bank of a stream is a little child. 
He is intently watching the splashing waters as they 



16 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

playfully rush over the pebbles and rocks. Now he 
dashes at something in the stream. Now he runs 
along the bank eagerly watching an object which is 
floating there. How earnest he is ! How weary with 
his long pursuit! Yet onward! onward still he de- 
scends the brook; now running, now grasping after 
something which as often eludes his touch. But the 
day wanes. Night mantles the earth with gloom. 
The child stops, looks round, and weeps bitterly! 
The scene is strange to his eyes. He has, in the ardor 
of his pursuit, wandered far from home ! Now that 
night has come he is weary, faint, lost ! 

What has the child been seeking all day *? 

He saw a bright bubble on the clear waters spark- 
ling in the sunbeam's light. It charmed him. He 
pursued it. It eluded his grasp, yet still decoyed 
him down the stream. He sought the worthless 
thing with all the earnestness of his young heart, 
missed it, and was lost ! 

Behold in this child an image of yourself! See in 
his misfortune a figure of your own ruin ! For worth- 
less and false as that bubble is the world you seek. 
Your enthusiasm in its pursuit is madness. Every 
step you take leads you farther away from God, the 



THE BUBBLE BUEST. 17 

soul's true home, and hurries you toward the region 
of desolation, sorrow, and death. 

"The world passeth away and the lust there- 
of," is an inscription ^\T*itten with the pencil of the 
Almighty over the archway of the world. The poet 
has sung, that 

" This world is all a fleeting show, 

For man's illusion given ; 
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, 
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow : 

There 's nothing true but heaven." 

Experience, dearly purchased experience too, has 
testified to the same effect. It is said that a lady 
once came suddenly upon an Etrurian monument, in 
which there was just aperture enough to see, for a 
moment only, a sitting figure with its look and 
drapery of more than a thousand years. She be- 
held it for a few seconds, preserved only in the still- 
ness of antiquity, when it fell to dust at her very 
breathing. Such is the world to its pursuers, beauti- 
ful in perspective, dust in possession ! 

These testimonies you now find it difficult to be- 
lieve. From the gay dreamland of your youth the 
world appears a scene of unsurpassed loveliness and 



18 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

peerless beauty. You see nothing but bewitching 
gardens and sunny vales tastefully filled with green 
trees, gay singing birds warbling delicious music, 
lovely flowers, and cool fountains glancing in the 
sunbeams. To these you add multitudes of joyous 
youth who sport away the flying hours in the highest 
excitement of unmingled delight. Such to your im- 
agination is the brilliant future of a worldly life ! 

Alas ! alas ! My heart is pained at the bare 
thought of your certain disappointment, for full well 
I know that these dreams will have no fulfillment. 
These ideal pictures, created by the enchantments of 
your fancy, will change to rude, rough, bitter realities, 
when touched by the wand of that more than magi- 
cian. Experience. Could I convince you of this, young 
pilgrim in the journey of life, you might be saved 
from many an hour of sorrow, perhaps from the jaws 
of destruction itself. Open your heart, therefore, to 
conviction, for " a wise man will hear^ and will in- 
crease learning ; and^ a man of understanding shall 
attain unto wise counsels,^^ 

Suppose, for a moment, that you were suffering 
very severely from hunger, and were even on the 
point of actual starvation. In this extremity you 



THE BUBBLE BURST. 19 

look imploringly toward an approaching friend, and 
with your expiring strength exclaim, " Give me food 
for pity's sake ! I am dying of hunger ! Give me 
something to eat, my friend !" 

Your friend, gazing upon you with a pitying eye, 
* promises to bring you instant relief. He hastens 
away, but speedily returns laden with dusty tomes, 
the works of the ablest minds and profoundest think- 
ers among mankind. Throwing thena into your arms, 
he exclaims, " Here, my friend, are some of the finest 
books extant. They contain the loftiest produc- 
tions of genius, and teem with the noblest ideas. 
Feed upon them freely and satisfy your gnawing 
hunger." 

I can easily imagine the look of wonder and indig- 
nation with which you would receive this strange 
communication, and the sharpness of the tone in 
which you would cry, " Books ! Ideas ! I want bread^ 
not ideas ! Who ever heard of ideas being offered to 
a man in my condition ? Sir, if you pity me, give 
me bread P'' 

Now I contend that such an offer of ideas to satisfy 
the pains of hunger would be as truly consistent as is 
your attempt to gratify the wants of your soul with 



20 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

the world. Your friend is supposed to offer thoughts 
— immaterial ideas — to satisfy a material ov physical 
want. You offer your spiritual nature material food, 
and command it to be satisfied ! Is not the supposi- 
tion as consistent as the fact ? Is not the one thing as 
clearly impossible as the other ? 

Remember, therefore, that the high nature you 
possess, the spirituality of your inner principle, 
renders satisfaction in the things of this world impos- 
sible. The lofty aspirations, the earnest yearnings of 
your spiritual nature, will ever turn with unutterable 
disgust from " all that is in the world^ the lust of the 
fleshy and the lust of the eyes^ and the pride of life^'^ 
as beneath the demands of its infinitely superior capa- 
cities. It aspires after communion with the mind of 
God, it longs to climb eternal heights. Will you 
doom it to trail its glories in the dust? You may 
crush its noble aspirings. You may enslave it to the 
fleshly and the visible, but in so doing you insure its 
present uneasiness and its eternal misery. Is the 
world worth the price ? 

Permit me to bring another illustration to this 
great question. Imagine yourself bound to take a 
European voyage. Your residence is some hundred 



THE BUBBLE BUKST. 21 

miles or more from, the port of embarkation. You 
gather your outfit, pack your trunks, and take your 
departure from home. But such has been the confu- 
sion attending your preparations, and the excitement 
of leaving your friends, that, after starting, you find 
yourself without letters of introduction, and with 
barely means enough to carry you to the port from 
whence your vessel is to sail. Now, with this dis- 
covery, could you take any real pleasure on your 
journey ? The river boat in which you sailed might 
be as gorgeous in her appointments and furniture as 
the palace of an Eastern calif The scenery around 
you might be as lovely as the vale of Tempe. The 
companions of your voyage as cheerful as Mirth. 
The table furnished with all imaginable delicacies. 
Yet a thought of your certain embarrassment at the 
termination of your inland journey would be a frost 
upon your heart, effectually cooling the ardor of 
enjoyment. "What shall I do without means 
or friends?" would be the ghostlike question haunt- 
ing you every hour, filling you with unrest and 
alarm. 

Do you comprehend my meaning, traveler to the 
boundless future ? know you not that 



22 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

" Our lives are rivers, gliding free 
To that iinfatiiorQed, boundless sea, 
The silent grave ?" 

Know you not also that your immortal soul is 
conscious of wants beyond the quiet tomb ? Is it 
enough to offer that undying nature gifts and goods 
which must he left at the grave'' s mouth ? Granting that 
your beloved pleasures were sufficiently exalted to meet 
the present wants of your inner life, yet, gazing on 
the truth that " we brought nothing into this world and 
it is certain we can carry nothing out," can they 
give your soul rest? Will not that immortal thing 
within you often stand gazing into the infinite, be- 
holding the unmeasured cycles of eternity in their 
stupendous vastness, and feeling an indestructible 
consciousness that its duration is as unlimited as that 
eternity'? Does not the knowledge that it has no 
passports, no preparation for that voyage into im- 
mensity, cause it to shrink fearfully from its perils 1 
And can the costliest delights of earth quiet its fears 
or satisfy its desires ? Nay ! It is impossible ! Your 
immortal nature cries aloud for sources of enjoyment 
as enduring as itself. Give it this world only, and 
you doom it to disquiet, fear, and sorrow. 



THE BUBBLE BUEST. 23 

What would you say to a man who should seri- 
ously declare, " I will hereafter see with my ears and 
hear with my eyes /" 

" I should pronounce him a madman," you reply. 

" But why call him a madman, my friend ?" 

" Why, indeed ! Could he be less than mad who 
should pretend to violate the order of God? God 
has adapted the eye to the nature of light, the ear to 
the nature of sound, and he must be mad indeed who 
can talk of reversing this method of seeing and hear- 
ing. Why, sir, the thing is impossible, the idea mad- 
ness, the pretension folly !" 

All this is true, and proves you, gay worldling, to 
be a madman indeed. For you are attempting the 
daring, the impossible folly of violating the order of 
God ! Not, to be sure, in threatening to see with 
your ears, but in resolving to be happy " without 
God,^"^ As truly as he has appointed the eye to see, 
the ear to hear, has he also decreed that the soul of 
man shall find its pleasure in his service. Over the 
grand archway of human life he has graven this in- 
scription for the guidance of every traveler : 
" Incline your ear and come unto me : 
Hear and your soul shall live." 



24 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

But you have made a covenant with earthborn 
pleasure. You have determined "to live" without 
inclining your ear or coming unto God. In defiance 
of God's order, and of the established fact that no 
man has ever found true pleasure out of Him any 
more than any person has been able to hear with his 
eyes^ you will " spend money for that which is not 
hread^ and your labor for that which satisfeth not.^^ Is 
not this madness^ Forbear, then, vain man, to fight 
against God ! Your folly has lasted sufficiently long 
already. Let a pious poet reason with you, who asks 

" For the bright world of 

Pure and boiindless love, 

What hast thou found ? Alas, a narrow room ! 

Put out that light, 

Eestore thy soul its sight, 

For better 't is to dwell in outward gloom, 

Than loj the vile body's eye 

To rob the soul of its infinity." 

If a man were about to emigrate to some far-off 
land, and to risk his whole fortune in the enterprise, 
he would assuredly listen to the words of experience. 
However bright the pictures of his fancy, however 
ardent his pantings after his imaginary elysium, he 
would certainly pause if credible men, returning from 



THE BUBBLE BUEST. 25 

that new world of his hopes, should uniformly testify 
that although verdant as paradise and fruitful as 
Eden, a deadly malaria poisoned the atmosphere and 
made it a land of graves. Such testimony would 
surely cause a sane mind to change its purposes, and 
shun a danger so obvious and undeniable, "/or a wise 
man feareth and departeth from evil ; hut the fool 
rageth and is confident." 

Now I am able to offer you credible testimony 
from competent judges concerning the incapacity of 
this perishing world to give you the happiness it so 
falsely promises, and which you so credulously expect. 
Against your hopes lies the fact that, thus far, the 
world has not fulfilled its promises to you. Your 
present state is well described by one who tried your 
god faithfully, and said of his youth, 

"I was not happy, but I knew not then 
That happy I was never doom'd to be." 

And this, if all past experience is not illusion, will 
be your sad conclusion if you continue the slave of 
the world. To feel convinced of this, study well the 
following testimonies : 

King Solomon tried an experiment with the world. 



26 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

He wished to know if it contained aught that could 
confer real bliss. He had abundant means for his 
purposes. He tried the pleasures of wine, of feasting, 
of lust, of music, of building, of horticulture, of 
wealth, of power, of ambition, of greatness. In 
describing his attempt he says : 

" Whatsoever mine eyes desired I kept not 
from them, I withheld not my heart from any 
joy!" 

Thus he tried the world in all its forms. He 
brought all its resources to the test. Never, per- 
haps, has moi^tal man had equal opportunity to make 
such a trial of its power. What is his verdict? 
Hear it, child of pleasure! Ponder it well and 
deeply. " Behold !" he exclaims, after reviewing his 
experience, " behold, all was vanity and vexation 
OF spirit !" 

Gelimer was king of the Vandals, and was, for a 
time, a victorious, powerful sovereign. The pleas- 
ures of wealth, pomp, and ambition, flowed like 
streams into his heart. But they had no power to 
satisfy, for when led a captive, afterward, at the 
chariot wheels of his conqueror, Belisarius, through 
the streets of Constantinople, he too cried, " Vanity 



THE BUBBLE BUEST. 27 

of vanities ! Vanity of vanities /" An affecting tes* 
timony to the utter worthlessness of visible splendors 
and earthly good. 

Behold also the magnanimous Saladin, the noble 
hearted Saracen, an Eastern sultan, whose bravery 
was only matched by that of the chivalrous Richard, 
England's lion-hearted king. After a life of success- 
ful wars, this mighty man lay on his couch pale and 
dying, surrounded by prince and paladm, peer and 
warrior. The expiring sultan bade them take his 
shroud, fasten it to his victorious banner-staff, and bid 
a herald carry it through the city streets, exclaiming 
as he went : ''This is all that is left, of all his great- 
ness, to the might]/ Saladin /" What a bitter confes- 
sion of the emptmess of worldly things was contained 
in this expressive command ! 

Hear still another. Let Horatio Nelson speak. 
He entered upon his career a sickly boy, an almost 
unfriended coxswain in a British ship-of-war. He 
toiled hard and long for fame, honor, wealth. He 
gained them all. The pale-faced boy became an 
admiral, a viscount, a duke, a knight of various 
orders. He was the hero of a hundred fights. Whole 
nations feared him, while in his native land no man 



28 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

could excite such enthusiasm as thrilled the hearts of 
his countrymen when he appeared. He was literally- 
covered with the glorj of this world. Let him tell 
what the world did toward making him a happy 
man : 

" I am now," he wrote, " I am now perfectly the 
great man : not a creature near me. From my heart 
I wish myself the little man again ! 

" There is no true happiness in this life, and in 
my present state I could quit it with a smile. Be- 
lieve me, my only wish is to sink with honor to the 
grave. I envy none but those of the estate of six 
feet by two !" 

Listen again. The witness is hoary with age, and 
the wealthy owner of a magnificent palace. During 
his long life he was first a priest, then a bishop ; next 
a merchant, then a statesman and diplomatist, a 
prince of the French empire, and the confidential 
adviser of that great warrior-king. Napoleon. His 
companions have been kings and warriors. His 
counsels have decided the fate of empires. His 
name is Talleyrand. Let him say how much 
happiness this world can yield its most successful 
votaries. 



THE BUBBLE BUEST. 29 

" Eighty-three years of life," he writes, " are now 
passed, filled with what anxieties ! what agitations ! 
what vanities ! what troublous perplexities ! And 
all this with no other result than great fatigue, and a 
'profound sentiment of discouragement with regard to 
the future^ and of disgust for the past^ 

Now hear a gay sinner speak from the circles of 
private life. Writing to a friend he said : " There is 
not a blessing springs upon my path but mildew 
covers it ; nor a flower that blooms there which does 
not wither and die. Although gray hairs have not 
silvered my head, yet my hopes are dead, and now 
in my prime I must, it is most likely, sink to my 
grave with an icy chillness round my heart. My life 
is steered by the chart of misery !" 

Such is the voice of experience concerning the 
world. Its friends, too, are the speakers. I have 
purposely selected the verdicts of successful seekers 
after worldly joy. Had I given the opinion of 
spiritual Christians, you might have objected that 
they have to defend the consistency of their prac- 
tice in forsaking the pleasures of this life, and are 
therefore interested witnesses. You cannot offer this 
reply to the parties before you. One of them. Solo- 



30 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

mon, was a Jew, Gelimer was a pagan, Saladiii was a 
follower of Mohammed, Nelson a nominal Christian, 
Talleyrand was a Papist, and the gay sinner was a 
skeptic ! But though differing so widely in their 
religious views and in their circumstances, they all 
testify to the utter insufficiency of the world to satisfy 
and make happy the immortal soul of man. Thus 
the sons of pleasure agree with experimental Chris- 
tians, and with the Holy Scriptures, in teaching the 
vanity of mere earthly pleasures. They all sustain 
the poet who, in portraying the world, says : 

" The empty pageant rolls along ; 
The giddy, inexperienced throng 

Pursue it with enchanted eyes ; 
It passeth in swift march away ; 
Still more and more its charms decay, 

Till the last gaudy color dies.'* 

What will you — ^what can you reply to this over- 
whelming mass of evidence'? You must stand 
speechless before it ! You must be convinced by it ! 
You must yield to its authority or be self-convicted 
of willful blindness. Let me persuade you to submit 
— to cast off the world : for even admitting it could 
give real bliss, and that all your expectations of 



THE BUBBLE BUEST. 31 

attaining it will be realized, which is very uncertain, 
you will have, at best, but a small portion of its 
wealth or honor. Why then will you sell your pres- 
ent happiness and your soul for so uncertain and val- 
ueless a price ? Study well this momentous problem : 
"What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the 

WHOLE world and LOSE HIS OWN SOUL 1 OR WHAT 
SHALL A MAN GIVE IN EXCHANGE FOR HIS SOUL *? Can 

you afford to make such a bargain ? Will you sell your 
soul for a little sensual pleasure 1 Horrible bargain ! 
Immortal blessedness sold for a world which, in its 
richest aspect, is vanity ! Pause, beloved youth, 
ere you ratify 'such a fatal contract ! Do not hide its 
true awfulness from your sight by saymg you do not 
intend to cast off God and religion in following the 
pleasures of this world. The sacrifice of the Divine 
service, and of the soul, is inevitable if you will serve 
the world. '^Ye cannot se7^ve God and mammon^^'' 
and " hnow ye not that the friendship of the world is 
enmity with God? Whosoever therefore will he a 
friend of the world is the enemy of GodP"^ 

Choose, then, between this manifestly unsatisfying 
world and the salvation of your soul ! The issue 
is plainly before you. Take this world and its short- 



32 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

lived vanities, and you shall lose the favor of God ! 
heaven ! your soul ! Or, give up the world and God 
will give you himself, and save you with an everlast- 
ing life ; for " the fear of the Lord tendeth to life^ 
and he who hath it shall abide satisfied ; he shall not 
be visited with evil" 

Bid your idol adieu, therefore, saying with Sir 
Henry Wotton : 

" Farewell, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles ! 
Farewell, ye honored rags, ye glorious bubbles ! 
Fame's but a hollow echo ; gold, pure clay ; 
Honor, the darling but of one short day ; 
Beauty, the eye's idol, but a damask' d skin; 
State, but a golden prison to live in, 
And torture freeborn minds ; embroidered trains, 
Merely but pageants for proud swelluig veins : 

4f * -X- 45- ■}«• -X- 

Fame, honor, beauty, state, train, blood, and birth 
Are but the fading blossoms of the earth." 



HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE. 33 



CHAPTER II. 

HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE. 

The Orientals relate a beautiful legend of their 
renowned calif, Haroun Al Raschid. He was 
riding one day with his train along a narrow street in 
Bagdad, when one of his camels stumbled. By its 
fall a casket of pearls was broken, and its precious 
contents scattered upon the ground. Nodding to his 
attendants, the calif gave them permission to gather 
the costly spoils for themselves. In an instant they 
rushed from his train to gather up the guerdon of 
their master — all but one stout, hideous-faced Ethio- 
pian. " Moveless as the steed he reined," he still sat 
behind his lord. Surprised, the calif said : 

"Tell me, good fellow, why you seek not your 
share of the pearls? What will you gain by thus 
lingering near to me ?" 

" My gain will be this, sire," replied the Ethiopian ; 

" I shall know that I have faithfully guarded my king." 
3 



84 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

That noble reply won the calif's heart. Speaking 
of his faithful Ethiop to his friend, he said : 

" No features fair 



Nor comely mien are Ms ; 
Love is the beauty lie doth wear, 
And love his glory is." 

This legend finely illustrates a difference between 
the Christian and the worldling. The former finds his 
good in the Creator himself, as the Ethiop found his 
gain in serving his king ; the latter seeks his good in 
the '-'• creature^^'^ as the califs servants sought their 
gain in the scattered pearls. The former remembers, 
the latter forgets, 

" That if thou not to Him aspire, 

But to his gifts alone, 
Not love, but covetous desire, 

Has brought thee to his throne." 

As a worldling, you, beloved youth, are falling into 
the sad mistake of the latter class. You are look 
ing for happiness not in God, but in his gifts alone, in 
the scattered pearls of earth's broken casket. That 
this expectation must be quenched in the dead sea of 
disappointment I have, I trust, convinced you. Per- 
mit me now to unfold a truth which is probably new 



ii 



HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE. 85 

to you. Let me show you that the Vv^ay to extract 
the utmost pleasure from the things of this life is not 
by a " studied indulgence of the appetites and pas- 
sions," but by seeking your chief happiness in God. 

Before entering further, however, on this subject, I 
must guard you against the dangerous idea that your 
personal enjoyment is the true end and aim of life. 
The poet, in his " Psalm of Life," teaches you better. 
He says : 

'^ Not enjoyment and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way ; 
But to act, that each to-morrow 

Eind us farther than to-day." 

The poet is right. Your chief end is neither selfish 
joy nor selfish grief, but such earnest action — such a 
right use of your powers — as shall daily carry you 
farther from the selfish and the carnal, and nearer to 
the pure character of Him who is both the embodi- 
ment and the source of all real felicity. The 
result of that action will be the highest happiness, 
physical, mental, and spiritual, of which you are capa- 
ble. If you will make it your object to attain the 
image of God, he will make it his care to promote 
your enjoyment. If his service is your delight, he 



36 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

will see to it that all things within you and without 
you contribute to your happiness. His whole nature, 
which is love, moves him to do this. Look back- 
ward along the far-stretching aisle of time. See the 
first pair as they came from his hands in Eden. So 
long as they made him the sole object of their loving 
service, he made everything tributary to their pleas- 
ure. Beauty filled their eyes, melody charmed their 
ears. Every movement of their limbs, every excita- 
tion of their senses, every gratification of their appe- 
tites, every agitation of their emotions, every exercise 
of their reasoning faculty, every thought of each 
other, every perception of the Creator, caused a fresh 
wave of delight to pass over their happy spirits. But 
when they turned their eyes from the Creator and set 
themselves to the work of seeking their own interests 
and pleasures in their own way, then, alas ! happiness 
fled from Paradise and them. Then pain, and sorrow, 
and discord, and fear, were born into their hearts, and 
misery became the heir-loom of sinning mortals. StilL 
God's desire for human happiness, like his loving nature, 
remained unchanged. But as man lost it by turning 
away from God as the supreme good, so he must 
recover it by turning to him again with devoted love 



HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE. 37 

and faithful service. Sought on selfish principles, and 
as a selfish end, happiness can never be found; but 
sought in God, it bubbles up within the soul " a well 
of water sprmging up unto eternal life." 

You probably hold the opinion that to be pious 
you must so separate yourself from the world as to 
take no pleasure in anything but strictly religious 
exercises. You fancy that true piety prohibits you 
from enjoying any pleasure in earthly objects, pur- 
suits, and associations; that it requires you to walk 
amid all the delights of this terrestrial life with 
elongated countenance, rigid muscles, and mournful 
step, like some grave naute at a funeral, or some half 
buried old monk of the middle ages, whose mystic 
creed taught him that he was in the high road to saint- 
ship because he could say : 

" I have torn up the roses from my garden 
And planted thorns instead ; I have forged my griefs, 
And hugged the griefs I dared not forge ; made earth 
A hell for heaven." 

If you hold such views, you, like the monkish 
mystic, cherish a false opinion. True piety does not 
so war with your nature as to prohibit you from 
enjoying all the delight which springs from the legit- 



38 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

imate exercises of your bodily senses and appetites, 
of your social affections, of your various emotions, and 
of your intellectual faculties. You may be eminently 
pious, and at the same time find pleasure in eating, 
drinking, hearing, seeing, feeling; in the transaction 
of business, and the accumulation of property ; in 
cheerful, social intercourse with congenial minds ; in 
intellectual pursuits, in the cultivation of the imagin- 
ation and the esthetic tastes ; in historic, philosophic, 
scientific studies. In brief, you may be a devoted 
Christian, and enjoy every pleasant sensation, emotion, 
and affection that can be called into activity, by ex- 
ternal objects, without violating the laws of your phys- 
ical, moral, or intellectual nature. 

What piety forbids is not use but excess. It comes 
to all men, " teaching us that denying ungodliness and 
worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and 
godly in this present world." What piety requii^es 
is the right use of your senses, appetites, and emo- 
tions, and of those objects in the world which pleas- 
urably excite them. The godly are " they that use 
this world as not abusing ^V." Even the dreaded self- 
denial which religion enjoins is not directed against 
the lawful use of things that are lawful, but against 



HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE. 89 

that powerful tendency to excessive self-indulgence 
which is the black brand on depraved human nature, 
and the source of those mighty conflicts between flesh 
and spirit, through which every earnest soul must pass 
that would enter the gate of eternal life. But as 
Orpheus with his lyre charmed the grim monarch of 
Hades into submission to his wishes, so piety in a 
good man's heart throws a spell of power over his 
appetites and passions, thereby bringing the carnal 
tendency of his nature into subjection to the law of 
righteousness. Let us view him in contrast with 
the worldling at this point. 

The worldling yields to the cravings of his de- 
praved nature, and indulges his sensations and emotions 
more than is either right or healthful ; the pious mind 
conquers it, and rests satisfied with lawful and health- 
ful pleasures. The worldling seeks sensible pleasures 
as the prime aim of his existence ; the pious man ac- 
cepts them as the seasoning of duty and a stimulant 
to its performance. The worldling " fulfills the lusts 
of the flesh," and plunges into "divers worldly lusts," 
such as gluttony, drunkenness, revelings, vain amuse- 
ments, covetousness, and the like; the pious man 
"crucifies the flesh with its affections and lusts" 



40 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

keeps his " body under, and brings it into subjection" 
to the law of " temperance in all things." The world- 
ling so indulges himself as to incur guilt in his pleas- 
ures ; the pious man accepts such pleasure only as ii 
consistent with the preservation of a pure conscience 
and a mind at peace with God. In a word, the 
worldling is the devoted slave of his appetites and 
passions ; the pious man is their wise naaster and 
lord. Which, then, think you, is likely to derive the 
most pleasure from them through a lifetime ? Their 
master or their slave ? 

To solve this problem you need only consider care- 
fully what has been already stated, that the pious 
man keeps the laws of his physical, mental, and moral 
constitution in all his pleasures, while the worldling 
indulges himself without regard to those laws. Now, 
most assuredly, no man can, on the whole, extract 
more pleasure from his sensations and emotions by 
violating their laws than can be obtained from their 
lawful use. If he can, then God has so constituted 
men as to make disobedience more productive of hap- 
piness than obedience, which cannot be true. If he 
cannot, then a religious life, instead of depriving you 
of all sensible pleasures, is likely to afford you more 



>3 

] 



HOW TO e:n'joy this life. 41 

enjoyment of earthly things than a sinful and worldly 
one, and to verify the saying of the Master : " Seek 
first the kingdorifi of God and his righteousness^ and 
all these things shall he added unto you^ "He that 
keepeth the law, happy is he." 

There is an old fable which will further illustrate 
the difference between the pious man and the world- 
ling with respect to their enjoyment of this life. It 
describes a bee finding a jar of sweetmeats in a 
garden. Forsaking the flowers, it plunged into the 
jar of sweets and gave itself up to their enjoyment. 
Despising the tedious toil of its fellow-bees among 
the flowers, it clung to its abundance and eat to 
satiety. Cloyed at length, it sought to quit its 
pleasure-house and return to its hive. But its legs 
were buried in the sweets. Flapping its wings to 
escape, they too became immured in the luscious 
mire. Struggling still harder, it sunk deeper, and 
finally found death, where so lately it found nothing 
but delight. 

That silly bee is a fitting type of the worldling, for 
like it he plunges into pleasures of appetite, sensa- 
tion, or passion, and voraciously devours, while the 
good man cautiously sips. Like the bee, too, he may 



42 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. '^M^ 

crowd more of enjoyment into a brief space of time 
than the good man can obtain from lawful moder- 
ation. But mark the result. The excess of his in- 
dulgence cloys his appetites ; he is then afflicted with 
the nausea of satiety. Disgust deadens the raptures 
of desire. Exhaustion succeeds the excitement of pas- 
sion. The vital forces having been too lavishly ex- 
pended, become insufficient to impart healthful motion 
to the machinery of life, and its wheels begin to drag 
heavily along. The abused animal functions develop 
disease and feebleness, and he becomes incapable of 
enjoyment, and the victim of pain. Still his dis- 
eased imagination tyrannizes over his passions, his 
habits weave iron webs around him, and his imbecile 
mil, unable to resist, permits him to be dragged, like 
a slave, into the embrace of pleasures which his 
cloyed heart loathes. Under this discipline of misery 
his mind and body soon break down. He lives on a 
wretched wreck of humanity, or stumbles prematurely 
into an unhonored grave. 

Such is the worldling's pleasure. Now look again 
at the manner of the pious man's enjoyment of 
life, and its results. He places, as I have before 
sho^\^i, the law of God, as found hi the Scriptures and 



f 



HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE. 43 

ill his own constitution, as a rein on the neck of his 
sensational and emotional nature, and thus restrains it 
from what is sinful. While he avoids excess, he 
extracts all lawful pleasure from every lawful object 
that can act upon his senses and emotions. Thus he 
enjoys life slowly ; he gratifies, but does not cloy his 
appetites ; hence he knows nothing of the nausea of 
satiety, the ennui of exhaustion, or the feebleness of 
abused powders. His vital forces remain vigorous 
and abundant; the currents of life flow health- 
fully along his veins ; life is to him a daily benison. 
He enjoys his existence, and having thus carefully 
husbanded his vital forces until, by natural expendi- 
ture, they' are exhausted, he finally passes from a 
peaceful death-bed into an honorable grave.* 

* Commenting on the apostle's saying, " Godliness is profitable 
for the life that now is," Adam Claeke observes : " The man 
that fears, loves, and serves God, has God's blessing all through 
life. His rehgion saves him from all those excesses, both in action 
and passion, which sap the fomidations of hfe, and render exist- 
ence itself often a bm^den. The peace and love of God in the 
Beart produce a serenity and calm which cause the lamp of life 
to burn clear, strong, and permanent. Evil and disorderly pas- 
sions obscure and stifle the vital spark. Every truly religious 
man extracts tJie uttermost good out of life itself^ and, through the 
Divine blessing, gets tlie uttermost good tliat is in life ; and what is 
better than all, acquires a full preparation here below for an eternal 



44 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

" How men woTild mock at Pleasure's shows, 

Her golden promise, if they knew 
What weary work she is to those 

Who have no better work to do. 

" Curved is the hne of beanty, 

Strait is the line of duty ; 
Walk by the last and thou shalt see 

The other ever follow thee. 

" righteous doom, that they who make 

Pleasures their only end, 
Ordering their whole life for its sake, 

Miss that whereto they trend ; 

" While they who bid stern duty lead, 

Content to follow, they, 
Of duty only takmg heed, 

Pind pleasure by the way." 

It is said of Mahmoud, the great Mohammedan 
conqueror of India, that after his victory at Somnat 
he found a stupendous idol at the gates of its temple. 
" Destroy it !" cried the zealous warrior. " God is 
one ; destroy this false idol !" 

The Brahmins fell at his feet. " Spare our god 
Somnat," they pleaded; "we will give thee gold, 
pearls, and jewels of rarest luster." 

life of glory above. Thus godliness has the promise of, and 
secures the blessings of both worlds." 



HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE. 45 

"It must be destroyed," retorted the conqueror. 
" I would rather be remembered as the breaker than 
the seller of idols !" Having uttered these words, 

" High lie rear'd Ms battle-ax, and heavily came down the blow ; 

Eeel'd the abominable image, broken, bursten, to and fro — 

Trom its shatter' d sides reveahng pearls, and diamonds, showers 
of gold; 

More than all that proffer' d ransom, more than all a hundred- 
fold." 

As with Mahmoud and the idol, so must it be with 
thee and the world, my reader. To enjoy it you must 
smite it. To win the wealth of pleasure it contains 
you must dethrone it, die to it, despise it, conquer it. 
You must abandon its gay haunts and refuse to touch 
its sinful amusements ; you must shun the ball-room, 
the theater, the opera-house, the gambling saloon, 
with every haunt of folly ; you must detach your 
affections from its wealth, its honors, its fashions. 
But in doing all this, you sacrifice no real pleasure ; 
you do not diminish the degree of enjoyment which 
life can extract from the earthly ; on the contrary. 
He, to gain whose love you flee these sinful things, 
will compel the world to pour its pearls into your 
lap — to bring you as much of its imiocent pleasures 
as may be consistent with your highest interests — 



46 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

your eternal happiness — to yield you more pure 
pleasure than godless worldling ever knew. Smite, 
then ! Smite thy idol world to the dust. Seek its 
sinful pleasures no longer : 

"Fond youth, give o'er, 

And vex thy soul no more 
In seeking what were better far unfound; 

Alas ! thy gains 

Are only present pains 
To gather scorpions for a future wound." 

But gather up your soul's affections ; bind yourself 
with them to the cross of Jesus, and consecrate your 
noble nature to Him whose service is freedom, whose 
laws are paths of happiness, and at whose right hand 
there are "pleasures for evermore." Thus shall 
your glad heart be 

" A hidden fountain fed from unseen springs 
From the glad-making river of our God." 



SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 47 



CHAPTEE III. 

THE SOCIAL HAZARDS OF A SINFUL LIFE. 

A LITTLE more than a century ago a young man 
named William Dodd graduated with eclat at Cam- 
bridge University, England. Being the son of a 
clergyman he had enjoyed the benefits of early re- 
ligious training. Having the advantages of a fine 
person, a superior mind, a thorough education, and 
good family connections, his life-prospects were as 
bright and promising as those of any young man in 
his class. Who could have predicted that such a fair 
beginning would be succeeded by an ignoble endl 
Yet so it was. 

For a time this young man's path was sunlit, and 
his hopes bloomed out into beautiful successes. 
Having entered the ministry he soon became singu- 
larly popular. His fine physique, charming voice, 
elegant manners, and eloquent utterances, led admir- 
ing thousands to throng his church. Nobles, wits, and 



48 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

highborn ladies heard him with delight, and filled his 
ears with their flatteries. Preferments followed in 
the wake of popularity. Lectureships^ college titles, 
a prebend's stall, a royal chaplaincy, a vicarage, and 
the tutorship of the young Earl of Chesterfield, were 
given him. The highest honors of his exalted profes- 
sion hung like ripening fruit within his grasp. 

Alas for this favored child of Providence ! His 
priestly robes concealed a worldling's heart. An in- 
sane passion for the society of the wealthy, the titled, 
and the nobly born, burned like a consuming flame 
in his breast. He yielded himself to its impulses, 
and it beguiled him into a style of living, the expenses 
of which preyed like locusts on his income, and made 
him poor in the midst of plenty. Reason pleaded 
and conscience protested against this passion in vain. 
It was his Calypso. Syren-like, it fascinated him, 
and drew him farther and farther from the line of 
duty, until it bound him in heavy chains of impracti- 
cable debts. 

Then came a hopeless struggle for freedom, which 
ended only with his utter ruin. Still listening to the 
voices of his passion, he tried to break his chains with 
the hammer of crime. First he sought to win the 



I 



SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SIKFUL LIFE. 49 

gift of a rich rectory by offering a bribe to the lady 
of the lord chancellor. He was repelled with merited 
scorn, and scourged by the popular tongue into dis- 
graceful privacy. 

Would that this stern rebuke had been heeded. 
But it was not. His passion lived. His debts were 
still unpaid. Then his evil genius triumphed, and in 
a sad J sad moment, he forged a bond for over twenty 
thousand dollars ! The deed was discovered. He 
was tried, convicted, sentenced to death, and twenty- 
six years after his graduation at Cambridge, the elo- 
quent and popular William Dodd, D.D., LL.D., ex- 
piated his crime on the felon's scaffold. 

In this unhappy man behold the type of a class of 
persons which may be counted by thousands and tens 
of thousands, as they throng the highways and by- 
ways of society. They may be found in prisons, in 
alms-houses, in cellars and garrets, in dens of shame, 
in haunts of poverty, and in the hiding-places of crime. 
Like Dr. Dodd, multitudes of them once stood on no 
despicable moral and social height. The probabilities 
of a reputable, virtuous, and prosperous career, were 
in their case fully equal to those of the average of un- 
renewed men and women. The great social wheel 



50 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

which, in its endless revolutions, is continually re vers- ■ 
ing the positions of men, seemed more likely to carry 
them up than to cast them down to the dust. But, 
like Dr. Dodd, instead of seeking their supreme good 
in their Creator, they sought it in the creature. As 
he chose to feed on the foam of human praise, and to 
regard the gay circles of fashionable life as his soul's 
heaven, so they elected to feed on the ashes of some 
perishable delight and to find their paradise in the 
present. Hence, like the unhappy Dodd, having 
separated themselves from their Creator, they be- 
came the victims of their own lusts. Their own de- 
sires growing imperious, led them with an imperial 
arm down to the depths of sorrow, poverty, shame, 
or crime. 

" What has all this to do with me ? " inquires my 
reader. You might as wisely ask what the soldier 
has to do with the clarion's voice ? What the mariner 
with the bell which utters its solemn warning as it 
sways over the sunken rock? Has not the history 
of Dr. Dodd, and the class of ruined ones he repre- 
sents, a clarion's voice, a bell's note of alarm for you ? 
Have you not entered the fatal door by which they 
passed into the house of shame and sorrow ? Are 



SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SIKFUL LIFE. 51 

you not, like them, seeking your supreme good, not in 
God, but in the creature 1 Are you not then liable 
to share their destiny ? I speak not now of the final 
loss of your immortal soul, but of the liabilities of 
your life this side the tomb. My question is this : 
you have chosen the world to be your chief good — 
your God ; are you not, therefore, in danger of fall- 
ing into the same category with Dr. Dodd and his 
class, and of ending your life in shame, sorrow, 
poverty, or crime? Painfully as the thought may 
strike you, I affirm that such a destiny threatens you. 
It yawns, like a fearful chasm, in the path you have 
entered. I do not assert that you will certainly 
stumble into it if you refuse to become a Christian, 
because the restraining grace of God, and the grace 
of favoring circumstances, may save you. What I 
affirm is, your liability as a worldling to pluck down 
ruin upon your head, and make a sad, sad failure of 
your life on this side the grave. 

You do not believe it ? I presume not. Young sinners 
are not easily convinced, because they do not see their 
danger. They walk on enchanted ground. They are 
in the " way which," as the All-knowing One describes 
it, " seemeth right unto a man," though at the " end 



52 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

thereof are the ways of death." Would that I could 
disenchant thee, my beloved reader ! 

When Sisera, the Canaanite warrior, fled defeated 
before the sword of Barak, he sought a hiding-place in 
the tent of Jael. That subtle lady welcomed him with 
smiles, and bade him rest in quiet under her protection. 
Confiding in her friendly professions, the weary soldier 
"asked water and she gave him milk; she brought 
forth butter in a lordly dish." He ate and drank, and 
then sought refuge from the pangs of defeat in sleep. 
Then Jael "put her hand to the nail and her right 
hand to the workman's hammer ; and with the ham- 
mer she smote Sisera, she smote off his head, when 
she had pierced and stricken through his temples." 

Alas, poor Sisera ! The smile of Jael was more 
fatal to him than the steel of his foes : and alas 
for thee too, young worldling! for although the god- 
dess of sinful pleasure, like Jael, smiles on thee and 
brings thee " butter in a lordly dish," yet she carries 
the hammer and the nail beneath her vestments ; and 
when thy conscience is fast locked in the slumber of 
folly, she will smite thee a deadly blow, which will 
leave thee rolling in the dust of shame, or plunge 
thee into the gloom of death. 



SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SIKFUL LIFE. 53 

It is this deceptiveness, this concealment of the 
skeleton beneath a beautiful mask, which makes a 
life of devotion to sinful pleasure so perilous. If the 
word poison was graven on its cup, if the draught it 
offers was bitter to the taste, there would be less of 
danger. But it is not so. The false goddess mixes a 
charmed draught in a chased cup. Her poison is a 
slow one too. It does its work so gradually, that he 
who drinks it finds it difficult to believe there is evil 
in the draught at all. Did Dr. Dodd dream of his 
fate, think you, when he first quaffed the wine of flat- 
tery ? He smacked his lips over it with delight ; he 
was mentally intoxicated ; but he dreamed not that 
the folly which led him to prefer the praise of men to 
the praises of God, was the first step toward social 
shame. Yet so it was, for 

" Adulation is the death, of virtue ; 
"Who flatters, is of all mankind the lowest, 
Save he who courts flattery.'^ 

Dr. Dodd, as we have seen, was foolish enough 
first to love and then to court the flattery of the great. 
That folly led him into habits of extravagance. Those 
habits plunged him into debt. His debts goaded him 
until, becoming distrustful of his friends and reckless 



54 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

of consequences, he plunged into crime and perished 
on the scaffold. 

Folly ^ then, was the first step in his downward 
career. And is not folly the first step in the desc^it 
of all who sink into the pit of social shame ? Is it not 
the first link in the chain which binds every demoral- 
ized and degraded man and woman now groaning in 
the mire of infamy ? Did ever drunkard, gambler, 
debauchee, forger, political profligate, or defalcator, 
plunge from the pure heights of virtuous life into the 
slough of gross and daring sin at a single leap? 
Never ! Never ! Trace the fall of all such persons 
back to its source and you will find some folly — per- 
haps a venial one only — -at the begimiing. Vanity, 
seeking gratification in the admiration of men, led 
that poor poverty-stricken mother into the folly of 
the ill-advised marriage which dragged her down to 
her present cheerless lot. The same weakness also 
led that pitiable creature, whose presence now pol- 
lutes the street, into the folly of extravagant dress, of 
seeking gay society, or of listening to the voices of 
the flatterer, until she was beguiled of woman's most 
precious jewel. The folly of aping his superiors in 
wealth led that forger into the financial embarrass- 



SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SIKFUL LIFE. 55 

ments which resulted in crime. The folly of making 
haste to be rich led that defalcator to appropriate the 
property of others to his own uses. The folly of 
yielding to the fascination of a gay associate seduced 
that gambler and that drunkard to frequent the 
" hells " in which their moral ruin was consummated. 
In short, study the life of any degraded man or 
woman, either of the past or present, and you will 
find the germ of their corruption concealed in some 
sinful or venial folly of their early lives. Every such 
life is but the fulfillment of the Divine prediction: 
"/?^ the greatness of his folly he shall go astray P"^ 

Let me strengthen my argument by another fact. 
There is in the nature of every human being some 
weak moral point at which he is peculiarly accessible. 
In other words, there is in all some marked constitu- 
tional tendency which seeks its development in some 
one or more of those specific follies which have 
resulted in the ruin of all the socially fallen. One, 
for instance, is inclined to pride, another to vanity, a 
third is strongly predisposed to covetousness, a 
fourth to ambition, a fifth to amativeness, and a sixth 
to violent outbursts of anger. Others, again, have a 
tendency to gluttony, indolence, obstinate self-will, or 



56 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

to falsehood. In every breast the currents of nature 
set strongly in one or more of these evil directions. 
Even St. Paul, in his regenerated state, was so con- 
scious of the presence of an " easily besetting " or 
constitutional sin, that he required all the energy of 
his great will, aided by the grace of God, to struggle 
successfully with it. Hear his notable confession : 
" I keep under my body and bring it into subjection, 
lest that by any means, when I have preached to 
others, I myself should be a castaway." 

I assume, therefore, dear young reader, that there 
are, in your nature^ some strong tendencies to particular 
forms of sin, I know not what they are. You may be 
proud, vain, covetous, lustful, passionate, or self-willed. 
But be your tendencies what they may, they are active, 
and ever prompting you to the perpetration of one or 
more of those specific follies which have led thousands, 
yea, tens of thousands, into shame and sorrow ; for 

" As eagerly the barr'd up bird will beat 

And beak against Ms wiry dome, 

Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat 

Of your impelled soul will through your bosom burn." 

Are you not, therefore, in danger of sharing their 
fate 1 Are not your natural tendencies, if unchecked 



SOCIAL HAZAEDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 57 

by religious restraint, and clierished by your devotion 
to the earthly, liable, at least, to forge a chain of fol- 
lies with which to bind you at length to the pillory of 
shame? Is it not clear to your own consciousness, 
that as you possess the precise tendencies which have 
led millions into such follies, you too are liable to be 
found in the same category with the morally ruined 
and the socially fallen? 

" Self-love is the greatest of all flatterers." It 
doubtless whispers words of safety in your ears, as- 
suring you that however other irreligious youths may 
have rushed on ruin, you are safe. Well, perhaps 
you are. True, you are advancing along a road 
bristling with the steel of countless foes, yet it may 
be you carry a charmed life, or you wear linked 
armor, so nicely fitted, and of such rare proof that 
no fiery arrow or stout broadsword of temptation 
can pierce or break it. It may be so and it may not ; 
but since the peril is great, and the consequences of a 
mistake inconceivably fearful, would it not be well 
for you to look at your means of defense? Suffer 
me, therefore, to ask you, On what do you rely for 
moral safety in this path of worldly pleasure which 
you have chosen ? 



58 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

Let me portray a scene from history. A beautiful 
valley, situated between two small hills, was made a 
battle-field by two armies, whose white tents and 
fluttering pennons crowned the opposite heights. In 
the middle of the vale there strode a colossal warrior, 
full nine feet in height, and with a frame duly propor- 
tioned. He was cased from head to foot with armor 
of brass. In his hand he bore a spear. With vaunt- 
ing words he dared the bravest of his foes to meet 
him in single combat. 

Responding to his challenge, there came a slender 
youth in shepherd'-s garb. He was beautiful though 
small in stature. His step was light, his form erect. 
He wore no armor, he carried neither sword nor 
spear. His only weapon was a slmg. 

His gigantic adversary sneered bitterly at his weak- 
ness, and thought to make him an easy prey. But 
the stripling, stepping boldly forward, said: "I come 
to thee in the name of the Lord of Hosts," and slung 
a stone which, striking the giant's forehead, caused 
him to fall on his face a dead man. 

Now, my dear young reader, if you were advanc- 
ing, like David, toward the gigantic dangers which 
stand in your path, with the '•''Lord of Hosts " to help 



II 



SOCIAL HAZAEDS OF SIKFUL LIFE. 59 

yoii^ I would not cherish a particle of anxiety in your 
behalf. But alas ! alas ! that Divine aid, which is the 
only help sufficient to secure any man the victory in 
the battle of life, you deliberately refuse. Like Da- 
vid, you are obviously inferior to your foes, but you 
reject David's helper ; while, with none of Goliah's 
might, you cherish his self-sufficiency, and are rush- 
ing to the conflicts of life, trusting in your own 
puny strength. Let us see wherein your power to 
overcome lies. 

You have, I presume, a well-educated conscience, 
which, it must be admitted, is a powerful guardian. 
Millions have been saved from ruin by giving heed to 
its monitions. Yours would restrain you from ruin- 
ous follies, if you would but enthrone it in your 
heart, and do it homage as to the Viceroy of heaven. 
But this you will not do, as your rejection of God as 
your supreme good plainly shows. Just here then 
lies your danger. You have already dethroned your 
conscience. Its voice has little or no authority over 
your desires and passions. Your enslaved will for- 
swore allegiance to it, when it yielded itself to the 
sway of your worldly lusts. With what propriety, 
then, can you depend on this ill-treated faculty to re- 



60 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

I 

strain you in the hour of fierce temptation ? When 
your love of creature good shall have placed you in 
the pillory of folly, when some Circe shall display I i 
her meretricious charms and stir your passions with 
her songs ; when your adored and worshiped world 
shall tempt you to the embraces of some hitherto un- 
enjoyed, but wicked, perhaps profitable delight, what 
aid will your poor, abused, tongue-tied, narcotized 
conscience be able to afford*? You will be on the 
brink of destruction. Like the ancient Romans when 
they had banished their noblest and only chief capable 
of saving them from their terrible enemies, the Gauls, 
you will be counted happy if, like them, you can re- 
call your deliverer to its seat of authority in season 
to save yourself from ruin. Is it prudent to run the 
fearful risk 1 

Many persons there are whose pride of character, 
or, as they would improperly name it, self-respect, 
restrains them from doing mean, degrading, or crim- 
inal actions. They partake of the spirit of a Scotch- 
man named Douglas. This fool-hardy hero com- 
manded a British ship-of-war, and being stationed in 
the river Medway to resist the advance of a Dutch 
fleet, he was ordered to defend his ship to the last 



SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 61 

extremity, but in no case to retire from his position. 
Bravely he fought, until his ship took fire ; but even 
then, when the most rigorous authority could require 
no more, he refused to quit her deck, and perished in 
the flames, exclaiming, " A Douglas was never 
known to quit his post without orders !" 

In this scion of a noble house pride of character 
was stronger than the love of life. In some minds it 
is sufficiently strong to restrain them from degrading 
pleasures and from dishonorable actions under ordi- 
nary circumstances. Possibly it is so in you, my 
reader. Your pride takes fire at the bare suggestion 
that you will ever become the victim of those vices 
which degrade and plunge men and women into 
shame. Panoplied in pride of character, you feel 
like an unlucky hero, named Anxur, in Virgil's 
Eneis : 

" Anxiir had boasted mucli of magic charms, 
And thonglit lie wore impenetrable arms ;" 

but when he met the Trojan hero in the strife of bat- 
tle, his boasted arms were bootless to protect him. 
Eneas saw him, and 

" At Anxur's shield he drove, and at one blow 
Both shield and arm to ground together go." 



62 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

And thus it may be with your pride of character. ■ i 
Under ordinary temptations it may preserve you; 
but it is the misfortune of most who elect the world 
to be their god, that circumstances are created by 
their sinful pursuits which bring them into conflict 
with overwhelming temptations, before which they 
fall as swiftly and easily as did the boastful Anxur 
beneath the sword of stern Eneas. 

Take for illustration the sad example of that wretch- 
ed traitor, Benedict Arnold. Favored by nature with 
brilliant military talents, and by gentle providences 
with favorable opportunities, he found himself in the 
prime of life a patriot general, a popular and honored 
soldier, the husband of a beautiful wife, and the pos- 
sessor of an income ample enough to satisfy every 
reasonable want. 

But Benedict Arnold had long cherished an inordi- 
nate self-esteem. Prosperity stimulated its growth, 
and caused it to become his evil genius. Pride, 
vanity, and ambition, took entire possession of his 
soul. To maintain a splendid establishment he sacri- 
ficed his property. And just then, when his pride of 
character ought to have held him back from wrong, 
he was tempted to dishonest peculations in his dis- 



SOCIAL HAZAEDS OF SINFUL LIFE. r>3 

bursements of the public money. Discovered and 
reprimanded by order of Congress, his now gloomy 
soul gave birth to purposes of revenge. Pride of 
character controlled him no more, for avarice and re- 
venge tore it up by the roots. Then he chose a 
traitor's destiny, and sought, as you know, to sell his 
country for paltry place and paltrier gold. His plans 
were confounded. He fled, and gained a general's 
commission in the British army, and abundant gold; 
yet with these gains there came a new-born nation's 
hatred and the scorn of an indignant world. Never 
did mortal man start in life with greater pride of 
character, and never did mortal man go to his grave 
with more of shame and infamy than this same Bene- 
dict Arnold, the traitor. 

Such is the weakness of pride of character, even 
in an extraordinary man, when strong temptations, 
like armed men, enter his soul. How then, my dear 
young reader, can you rely with anything like confi- 
dence on your pride of character for protection against 
those mighty assaults on the passions to which a 
worldly life will assuredly expose you ? 

But you feel no inclination to perpetrate those acts 
whicli lead to disgrace ? Probably you do not. Your 



64 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

master passion is not yet fully grown. Your hour 
of conflict is not yet. Does that prove it will never 
come ? May the spark be despised because it is not 
yet a devouring flame ? Look into your heart not for 
a present inclination to dangerous vices, but for the 
presence of those tendencies which lead men into the 
circumstances which beget uncontrollable lusts. 

A gentleman in India once reared a tiger's cub. 
His kindness seemed to eradicate the ferocity of its 
nature, and it grew up docile as a pet dog. One day 
its o^^iier, being alone with it in his library, caressed 
it and gave it his hand to lick. The rough tongue of 
the animal grazed his skin and gave it its first taste 
of blood. Then its ferocious nature awaked. Fury 
gleamed from its eye, and couching itself it made 
ready to spring upon its master. Fortunately the 
gentleman had a loaded pistol on his table, and saved 
his life by shooting his former pet. 

Let this fact illustrate a valuable truth. Let the 
sleeping ferocity of the tiger, waked by the taste of 
blood, stand for a figure of that slumbering passion in 
your breast which needs but the taste of strong 
temptation to rise into a terrible life, and to break 
over all the feeble defenses which a maltreated con- 



SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 65 

science, and pride of character, may have built up in 
your soul to protect its virtue. One moment of 
triumphant passion may suffice to undo the work of 
half a lifetime. And you^ have you not this tiger in 
your breast ? 

But you have established moral habits, and you 
rely on their protection, perhaps. Well, I congratu- 
late you heartily. Good moral habits are very de- 
sirable guardians, and if they have been formed in 
obedience to the conscience and the religious affec- 
tions, they are as powerful to protect as the angelic 
forces which guarded Elisha on the hill of Do than. 

Search, then, beloved readerj for the origin of these 
boasted moral habits. Scrutinize them narrowly. 
They may be little better than spies and traitors in the 
uniform of loyalists. Seize them therefore. Search 
them. Challenge them as to whence they came and 
whither they tend ! See if the best of them are not 
merely negative virtues after all — that is, you habit- 
ually avoid certain forms of sin because you have no 
natural inclination for them. For example, you are 
not a miser, because your nature is not avaricious ; 
you are not a spendthrift, because your nature inclines 
you to save rather than to waste ; you are not given 



66 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

to noise and quarrel, because your nature inclines you 1 
to quiet and peace. These, with kindred habits, hardlyi 
merit the name of virtues, because they require nol 
effort — no earnest willing. They are little else than 
the passive outgrowths of your mental constitution, 
just as docility, fidelity, peacefulness are the results 
of organization in some of the inferior animals. 

Search, again, and see if others of your habits do 
not proceed from your education, your life associ- 
ations, your pride of character, your self-esteem, your 
love of approbation, your fear of obloquy or physical 
suffering, or some other merely selfish motive ? Look 
closely and I think you will discover Self to be the 
sovereign to whom these boasted moral habits do 
homage. The bare fact that you choose the world, 
instead of the Creator, to be your supreme good, de- 
monstrates that self is king in your soul, and therefore 
lord over your habits. You do not, because you can- 
not, serve both God and mammon. Confessedly, God 
does not reign in you, and therefore Selfishness must. 

But are selfish habits reliable protectors m those 
conflicts with the passions to which you stand 
exposed'? Remember, these passions make their 
appeal to that very selfishness' from which your 



SOCIAL HAZARDS OF Sli^TFUL LIFE. 67 

present habits have sprung. Self-will, self-interest, 
self-pleasing— not respect for God and duty — have 
made you what you are. What may not happen, 
therefore, if, in the exigencies of your future life, the 
now half-awakened passion of acquisitiveness, or am- 
bition, or amativeness, should plead with self-interest 
or self-pleasing for dangerous and unlawful indulgen- 
ces. Would your old habits be likely to resist the 
pleadings of their own parents, think you ? They 
might ; and so might a fence of rushes check the 
march of the awfal avalanche; yet who would feel 
like building his house beside such a fence, with the 
snow masses trembling above him, ready to fall 
under the tread of a passing chamois 1 

It cannot be ; selfish habits cannot protect you from 
the assaults of temptations which appeal to the very 
selfishness which gave tliem birth. On the contrary, 
such habits serve to betray your soul by preparing it 
for defeat in the hour of trial. What are these 
habits but repeated acts of fealty to the dominant 
principle of selfishness ? What are they but the 
jailers of your worldly mind, binding its will with 
chains of steel to the throne of selfishness, and keep- 
ing vigilant watch and ward over it, lest it should flee 



68 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

its bondage, and achieve its freedom by submission 
to God and duty 1 

These questions must be answered in the affirma- 
tive. What then ? Why it follows that you have 
already parted with your freedom to resist the solicit- 
ations of selfish passions. Your moral habits, of 
which you boast, are but the chains with which the 
selfish or carnal mind has bound you. Like Paul's 
unrenewed man, you are carnal, sold under sin. Let 
me illustrate your condition. 

There is an ancient tale which tells of a wandering 
princess who found an asylum in a deserted palace. 
Pleased with its quiet, she sought rest from her 
fatigues in its deserted chambers, and made it her 
temporary home. Day after day she walked up and 
down its grand old halls, and wandered through its 
vast apartments, thinking herself free and alone. Its 
gates stood open as when she entered, only a spider 
had stretched his fine, light, almost invisible web 
across the portals. This is a feeble obstacle, and the 
princess feels no doubt of her power to brush it aside 
with her delicate fingers when she is ready to resume 
her journey. 

At length she resolves to quit the place. She 



SOCIAL HAZAUDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 69 

raises the web very easily, but there is a second one 
behind. She pushes this aside, when a third bars her 
way. This is lifted, but there is a fourth, a fifth, a 
sixth ! Boldly she pushes them aside, but still web 
succeeds web. Her strength is put forth until she 
is ready to drop with fatigue. But her heart is bold 
and she struggles still. Vain struggles ! There is no 
end to these obstructing webs. They are fine, light, 
but mighty in their self-renewing strength. They ex- 
haust both her power and her courage. She gives up 
the contest. Her hands fall listlessly by her side. 
The princess is a prisoner ! 

Poor young princess ! Poor young worldling ! 
Like her, you move with pleasure in a palace of 
beauty and delight, cherishing the fancy that you are 
free to go or to remain, to drink deeply or lightly of 
the wine of selfish indulgences, or to abstain altogether 
if you so will. And like her you see not how selfish 
habits are weaving webs in your path, nor how one 
sinful habit leads to another, until the gorgeous world 
of your sinful choice will become your Bastile, from 
which you will find no egress save by the low gateway 
of faith in Christ, or by the " sorrow of the world," 
and eternal death. 




70 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

Do you doubt this view of your liberty ? Test it, 
then, by an experiment on yourself. Free yourself 
from the bands of your favorite pleasures. Break 
away from your chosen haunts and from your elect 
companions. Abandon the god of this world, and 
attempt to take your first steps in the path of relig- 
ious duty, which is the way of true virtue ! Try 
to do these things with all the moral might of 
your unassisted nature, and see if you do not find 
yourself the slave of your own selfish lusts — see if 
with Paul's unregenerate man you are not soon led to 
cry out, " How. to perform that which is good I find 
not," and if, persisting in the trial, you do not at 
length groan out your despair by crying, " O wretch- 
ed man that I am ! who shall deliver me from the 
body of this death?" 

Trust not, therefore, for security against the great 
and terrible liabilities of your earthly career, to your 
moral habits, your pride of character, or your faithful 
but much maltreated conscience. They are not reli- 
able guardians over your safety. They cannot grap- 
ple with such foes to your life-success as crowd the 
highways of the gay world you have chosen to serve. 
If you will trust to them you will, in all probability, 



SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 71 

be left to fall into some folly which will be the evil 
genius of your life. Your vanity, or pride, or love of 
power, or lust of gain, your social affections, or your 
quick imperious temper, your envy, malice, or 
revenge, your dread of poverty, your fear of ridicule, 
or some other selfish desire, passion, or propensity, 
will drag you down from the serene heights of peace- 
ful innocence into the gloomy valleys of mental 
wretchedness, and, it may be, into the still gloomier 
depths of poverty, shame, and possibly of crime. 

Pause, then, beloved young worldling, in your gay 
career. Listen to the warning voice of him who, 
knowing the path you tread, says of it : " There is a 
way which seemeth right unto a man^ hut the end 
thereof are the ways of death?'' Consider also these 
lines of old Francis Quarles : 

" what a crocodilian world is this, 
Composed of treacheries and ensnaring wiles ! 

She clothes destruction in a formal kiss, 
And lodges death in her deceitful smiles ; 

She hugs the soul she hates ; and then does prove 

The veriest tyrant where she vows to love ; 

And is a serpent most when most she seems a dove." 



72 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



fk 



OHAPTEE lY. 

LINKED AEMOE FOE TEMPTED YOUNa SOULS. 

Napoleon, that most daring of warriors, rarely 
•ventured on the hazardous measures which character- 
ized his campaigns, without preparing beforehand for 
every conceivable emergency. His most brilliant 
victories were preceded by the most studiously pre- 
pared precautions against the possibilities of defeat. 
This habit gave him and his army confidence in the 
hour of peril. His failure to abide by it in his Eus- 
sian campaign led to the disasters of his retreat from 
Moscow. Had he begun his splendid military career 
with such neglect, it woxild have been broken off at 
its beginning. He would have found his Waterloo 
at Austerlitz. 

Let me persuade you, my dear reader, to adopt his 
habit of precaution in the great campaign of life. 
You have seen that, in common with all your species, 
your nature has tendencies to acts which may involve 



ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS. 73 

you in social shame, and bring you to a disreputable 
grave. You have also seen how totally unreliable 
your present means of protection are. Seeing then 
that you are exposed to so serious a danger, and are 
so unprepared to meet it, you cannot be without a 
strong desire to know on what you may rely for vic- 
tory in this inevitable battle. To suppose the con- 
trary would be to offer an insult to your reason, be- 
cause it would presume you to be indifferent to one 
of your most important life interests. You are not 
thus indifferent. You have a desire to avoid the ruin of 
your earthly well-being. Having made a prosperous 
entrance upon the stage of life, you would like to 
make your exit from it at last without dishonor. 

Suffer me, therefore, to point you to the religion of 
Jesus Christ as the only reliable means of self-con- 
quest, and of victory over those tempters of the pas- 
sions, desires, and affections which seek your ruin. 
Hear what the Holy Spirit saith to you on this subject : 
" Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world. 
Who is he that overcometh the world, hut he that 
helieveth that Jesus is the Son of God? He that is 
begotten of God Iceepeth himself and that wicked one 
toucheth him notP 



74 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



|l 



These are the words of Divine wisdom. They 
teach you that a renewed heart sustained by faith in 
Christ, and that only, can secure you that victory ■ 
over yourself and the world which, as I have shown, 
is the condition of your moral safety. Let me now 
show you how a renewed heart fits its possessor for 
successful conflict in the battle of life. Two facts, 
taken from the lives of two holy men, will bring 
out one of its naethods. 

Three hundred years ago a weaver's apprentice, 
named William Hunter, was cast into prison by the 
ferocious Bishop Bonner for reading the Bible and 
professing his faith in its doctrines. After being con- 
fined in the stocks and loaded with chains, through 
nine weary months of life, in a wretched dungeon, the 
youth was carried before the bishop. 

"If you recant," said that mitered monster, "I will 
give you forty pounds and set you up in business." 

The youth modestly but firmly declined the offer. 

"I will make you steward of my own house," 
added Bonner, putting all the gentleness of which 
his brutal nature was capable into his voice and 
manner. 

"But, my lord," replied the lad, "if you caimot 



ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS. 75 

persuade mj conscience by Scripture, I cannot find it 
in my heart to turn from God for the love of the 
world; for I count all worldly things but loss in 
comparison with the love of Christ." 

The bishop was enraged: "Will neither threats 
nor promises avail?" he cried. "Then away with 
him to the fire !" 

And to the fire he went, firmly, fearlessly, joyfully. 
" I am not afraid !" he shouted from amid the flames, 
and his noble spirit ascended to heaven. 

My second fact relates to Gordon Hall. God 
called him to the work of missions, and he went to 
the East Indies. After a time his influence with the 
natives became powerful. This, with his other quali- 
fications, made his services desirable to the East India 
Company. They offered him thirteen thousand dol- 
lars a year if he would quit his missionary work and 
enter their service. He refused. They then offered 
him fifty dollars a week for occasional aid. This also 
he declined in these noble words : 

"No money can tempt me to relinquish my 
work !" 

In these two facts you cannot fail to see the more 
than regal sway which conscience maintained over the 



76 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



m 

i on mI 



souls of these good men. With the martyr's fire 
one side, and the favor of a rich and powerful bishop 
on the other, young Hunter's conscience made him 
superior both to the fear of death and the attractions 
of gold. It bound him to the post of duty, albeit it 
was in the midst of flames. 

So also in the case of Gordon Hall. A high and 
honorable office tempted his ambition ; a life of light 
labor pleaded with his love of ease; mammon ap- 
pealed to his love of gain. AH these combined to 
induce him to quit the post of duty, which was set in 
the midst of toils and poverty. But his conscience 
bound him firmly to the right, and kept him from for- 
sakmg his Master's work. 

Hence, in these examples you see an effect of the 
regenerated life. It quickens, illuminates, and en- 
thrones the conscience, so that it is not that nar- 
cotized, abused, and enfeebled thing which it is in the 
unregenerate breast. There, as I have shown, it is a 
slumbering slave. In the renewed man it is an active 
sovereign. Christ has set it free from the thrall of 
the passions, throned it, crowned it, and endowed it 
as his viceroy with authority over the will and the 
affections. The illumination of the Spirit has given 



ARMOE FOE TEMPTED SOULS. 77 

it quick and far-reaching perceptions of right and 
wrong. It is, therefore, a power in the converted 
soul, and can be relied upon in the fierce conflicts 
which await every man in the great battle-fields of 
life. Of a man in whom conscience is thus enthroned 
it may with propriety be said : 

^' Eather hope to shake 
The mountain-pine, whose twisting fibers clasp 
The earth, deep-rooted ! Eather hope to shake 
The Scythian Taurus from his central base," 

than to allure him into the forbidden paths which lead 
to ruin. 

It has been finely said by a poet that 

"Each man should think himself an act of God, 

His mind a thought, his life a breath of God. 

And each should try, by great thoughts and good deeds. 

To show the most of heaven he hath in him." 

Another poet, writing of the human soul, has said : 

" Immortal ! what can strike the sense so strong 

As this the soul ? It thunders to the thought, 

Eeason amazes, gratitude o'erwhelms. 

Eoused at the sound, the exulting soul ascends 

And breathes her native air, an air that feeds 

Ambitions high, and fans ethereal fires. 

Quick kindles all that is divine within us. 

Nor leaves one loitering thought beneath the stars." 



78 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

Such are the thoughts which dwell in the hearts of 
pious men. They constantly view themselves as the 
offspring, the redeemed, the beloved of God. They 
think much of their immortal nature and destiny. 
They regard themselves as the "sons of God," as 
having the divine Jesus for their "elder brother," 
and as being " heirs of God and joint heirs with Jesus 
Christ." These great thoughts are habitually present 
with them, refreshing them, and acting with inde- 
scribable power upon the growth of their characters. 

Can you not readily perceive, my dear reader, how 
such thoughts as these tend to beget a degree of self- 
respect which cannot fail to act as a restraining power 
in the soul? Will he, think you, who feels such a 
consciousness of the essential value of his nature, of 
his infinitely exalted relationships, and of his noble 
destiny, be likely to cast himself and his prospects 
away for such momentary pleasures and perishable 
possessions as make their appeal to the senses, appe- 
tites, and passions of men ? Will he not rather repel 
such temptations with such questions as these : " Shall 
1 throw this immortal soul away for a mortal joy*? 
Shall I, for a moment of forbidden delight, dash the 
cup, filled with the pure nectar of eternal bliss, from 



ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS. 79 

my lips? Shall I, who have been bought by the 
precious blood of Jesus Christ, and who am a child 
of God, degrade myself to the level of beasts and 
wicked angels?" 

Now as a sinner you cannot be the possessor of 
this self-respect either in kind or degree. You may 
have pride of character, self-esteem, love of approba- 
tion, and up to a certain point they may afford you a 
doubtful protection ; but, unless you become pious, 
that powerful self-respect which springs from deep 
convictions of the value of your spiritual nature can- 
not be yours. Why it caimot is clear as a sunbeam. 
For, so long as you are purposed to remain a sinner, 
you will necessarily put all thoughts of your immor- 
tal nature and destiny as far away from your mind as 
possible. Your human relations, your present pleas- 
ures, your earthly affairs, are and will be the chosen 
themes of your thoughts, to the exclusion of those 
ideas which are seeds of true, saving self-respect. 
Thus, you perceive, the regenerate life gives its pos- 
sessor an ennobling self-respect, which, while it exalts 
his character, becomes as linked armor to his soul in 
its battles with those things which first demoralize 
and then destroy. 



80 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



Love to Christ is also a principle of power in 
the heart of a pious youth. Let me illustrate its 
operation. 

Two boys, the one a peasant, the other the son of 
a British nobleman, were tenderly attached to each 
other. The youthful lord was consumptive. As his 
disease progressed he grew feeble, until he was una- 
ble to leave his bed. Daily his peasant friend stood 
beside his bed and cheered him with many a smile 
and pleasant word. One day the sick boy wished for 
some blue-bells fresh from the hillside on which the 
boys had so often rambled in company. Eager to 
gratify his dying friend, the peasant boy hasted away, 
climbed the hill-top, and plucked the brightest and 
best of the flowers. At length he saw a beauty grow- 
ing far out on the edge of a deep ravine. Thinking 
only of giving pleasure to his friend, regardless of 
himself, he stepped to pluck the coveted flower, when 
lo, he grew dizzy and fell ten fathoms deep into the 
gulf below! There his friends found him lifeless, 
with the wild flowers firmly clutched in his dead 
hand ! The dear boy had fallen a sacrifice to the love 
he bore to his sick friend ! 

In this simple incident you see how aflection moved 



1 

' m ■ 



ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS. 81 

that peasant boy to forget himself through strong de- 
sire to give pleasure to his friend. First, it led him 
to deny himself his usual out-door sports and confine 
himself to the sick-chamber of his companion. Next, 
it gave wings to his feet when his sick playmate de= 
sired the wild flowers. And then it quieted every 
fear of danger on the edge of the ravine, and led him 
even into the very mouth of death. Was not his 
love a principle of power 1 

It is even so with that love for Christ which is be- 
gotten in the heart of him who is regenerated.' His 
love for Christ makes it easy for him to do what 
pleases the Master, and to avoid what displeases him. 
When the breath of temptation stirs the seas of inborn 
passion to a state of tumult, when favoring opportu- 
nity invites unlawful indulgences, arid when all that is 
attractive in the pomp of life, in the baits of ambition, 
and in the enticements of gain, pleads with his selfish- 
ness until his will trembles like a magnetic needle, 
then his love for Christ becomes a principle of power 
within him. He thinks of his Saviour, and his desire 
to please him grows so strong as to overpower all 
other desires. As the beloved image rises before his 
vision, his heart glows with the warmth of renewed 



82 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

affection, his will waxes strong, and he snaps the bands 
of temptation as Samson broke the cords with which 
the craft of Delilah had bound him. Animated by 
this love, he can do or not do, suffer or endure what 
would be impossible to his nature without it. If his 
love is deep and strong he can say with the holy 
Rutherford : "If it were possible that heaven, yea, 
ten heavens, were laid in the balance with Christ, I 
would think the smell of his breath above them all." 
With such a love, he can say with faithful Paul : "I 
can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth 

me." 

" Ah, how skillfQl grows the hand 
That oheyeth love's command ! 
It is the lieart and not the brain, 
That to the highest doth attain ; 
And he that foUoweth love's "behest 
Par exceedeth all the rest.'* 

Thus you see, dear young friend, that the posses- 
sion of piety would endow you with a principle of 
power, of which it may be said, as David remarked 
of the sword of Goliah, " there is none like it," except, 
indeed, that direct help from God himself which al- 
ways assists the disciples of Christ when engaged in 
their conflicts with evil and the evil one. 



ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS. 83 

There is a beautiful passage in the book of Job 
which is worthy of your attention at this point. The 
poor patriarch was afflicted with sudden bereavement, 
with poverty, with the fretful suggestions of his un- 
amiable wife, and with the, unjust reflections of his 
well-meaning but mistaken friends. Thus harassed, 
the good man looked to the Almighty, and taking a 
comprehensive view of his holy character, asked, 
" Will he plead against me with his great power ?" 

Then calling to mind the goodness of the God he 
loved, he answered his own question thus : " No ; but 
he would put strength into me !" 

Sublime faith! Put strength into me! Delightful 
assurance ! Yet that is what God actually does to all 
who love him. Listen ! Hear what he says to be- 
lievers. These are his words : " Fear thou not : for 
I am with thee. I will strengthen thee ; yea, I w^ill 
help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right 
hand of my righteousness. I the Lord thy God will 
hold thy right hand, saying unto thee. Fear not ; I will 
help thee !" 

That this help is all-powerful you may learn by con- 
sulting the experience of good men in every age. The 
celebrated Colonel Gardiner is a notable example. 



84 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

He spent his youth in a career of splendid but crim- 
inal follies. At thirty-one he was a prince among 
profligates, a chief among the worst of sinners, as 
godless as a demon. A tract awakened him. A 
dream terrified him. He repented, believed, was 
saved. Having been so long devoted to evil habits, 
it was natural for him to fear that temptations to his 
former pleasures would be too strong for his renewed 
nature to resist. But instead of this, so mightily 
did God help him, that " those licentious pleasures 
which had before been his heaven became now abso- 
lutely his aversion!" Speaking of this remarkable 
fact, his biographer says : 

" I cannot but be astonished that he should be so 
wonderfully sanctified in body as well as in soul, as 
that from that hour he should find a constant disin- 
clination to, and abhorrence of those criminal sensu- 
alities to which he fancied he was before so invariably 
impelled by his very constitution, that he was used 
strangely to think and to say that Omnipotence itself 
could not reform him without destroying that body 
and giving him another !" But it did help him to re- 
form that ill-used body, and thus made him a notable 
example of the truth, that God not only promises, to 



AEMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS. 85 

help, but that he actually puts strength mto those 
who serve him, so that they are able to " overcome 
when they are tempted," and to come off "more than 
conquerors through Him who loved them and gave 
himself for them." 

Perceive you not, therefore, beloved youth, the ad- 
vantage which piety will give you in your struggles 
with those tendencies of your nature which endanger 
your moral safety in this life '? What means of self- 
protection have you, as an unrenewed soul, that can be 
compared with the quickened conscience, the genuine 
self-respect, the holy love, the divine aid, which give 
so much moral power to the pious man "? You have 
nothing, absolutely nothing. Come, then, my fellow 
immortal, be persuaded by your hopes of escaping the 
degradations which so often follow a life of sin this 
side the grave, to give yourself to Christ. By the fate 
of millions of ruined immortals, by your fears of 
social shame, and your dread of heart agony, I be- 
seech you give your heart to Christ. Cry to God, 
saying, " Hold thou me up and I shall be safe." God 
will hear your cry, and then you will exclaim with 
David, " Thou art my hiding-place and my shield : I 
hope in thy word." 



86 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



CHAPTEE Y. 

THE DAEK DAYS OF LIFE. 

" Every roof," says Emerson, " is agreeable to the 
eye until it is lifted, and then we find tragedy, and 
moaning women, and hard-eyed husbands, and deluges 
of Lethe." 

In somewhat similar vein Longfellow sings these 
sweetly sad lines : 

" There is no flock, however watch'd and tended, 

But one dead lamb is there ; 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 

But has one vacant chair." 

" Every man," says Bishop Hall, " hath his turn 
of sorrow, whereby — some more, some less — all men 
are in their times miserable. I never yet could meet 
with the man that complained not of somewhat." 

" Man," saith the words of Holy Writ, " is born 
unto trouble as the sparks fly upward." 

Thus, you see, philosopher, poet, theologian, and 



THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE. 87 

the inspired word, agree in teaching that every hu- 
man being must drink the bitter waters of grief, must 
tread upon the burning sands of the parched desert 
of affliction, during his journey through life. There is 
no escape for any man, for sorrow is the heir-loom of 
the human race. Physical disease, domestic infelicity, 
pecuniary trial, overwhelming misfortunes, painful dis- 
appointments, ill-requited friendship, mental disquiet- 
ude, anxious cares, and cruel bereavements, stand, like 
fierce warriors, at the door of every man's habitation, 
ready to do the bidding of that high Providence which 
superintends human affairs, and metes out chastise- 
ments and retributions to all. These warriors do not 
all cross every man's threshold ; neither do the same 
ones enter every house. But this much is certain, 
some one or more of them, is sure to cross the pre- 
cincts of every household, and to pierce the side of 
every creature of mortal birth. 

You, then, beloved youth, must sooner or later feel 
the smart of the weapons of these providential war- 
riors. Healthful, buoyant, and hopeful as you now are, 
it is difficult to impress you with this truth. Neverthe- 
less, unless you are to be a sole exception in the his- 
tory of your race — and of this you cannot even 



88 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

dream — you mil, ere many years have passed, be 
the victim of heart-oppressing griefs. 

Permit me then to ask you on what prop you 
intend to lean when the- afflictions of your coming 
years shall weigh like a mighty burden on your 
trembling heart 1 By rejecting piety you cut your- 
self oif from Divine support in your days of grief. 
Tell me, therefore, nay, tell your own self-injured 
spirit, to what it is to look in the years of commg 
sorrow. 

Suppose, for instance, it should be your lot to suffer 
what is a very common fate in this land of commer- 
cial enterprise and speculation, the sudden wreck of 
your business affairs after enjoying years of success. 
Imagine your business bark well launched, wisely 
freighted, and prudently managed. She makes many 
a voyage, returning from each successive adventure 
more richly laden than ever before, until you begin- 
to grow rich. Your prosperity continues long. You 
reach the full maturity of your manhood. You think 
of relaxing a little from the pressure of business 
occupations, for you are satisfied with your success, 
and have the means of living in calm repose the 
remainder of your days. But just as you attain the 



i 



THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE. 89 

height of your ambition, the commercial sky is sud- 
denly overcast ; the whirlwind of monetary revulsion 
sweeps fiercely over the seas of business, tearing the 
sails of your richly laden bark to tatters, and driving 
her a dismasted wreck upon the rock of insolvency. 
You behold the battered fragments and exclaim, " I 
am a ruined man !" 

In that hour, when the convulsions of a day 
shall swallow up the toils of a long life, and leave 
you, on account of exhausted powers, without hope 
of recovering your wealth and social position, what 
will you do without a God ? What power will sus- 
tain your sinking heart '? Whence will come the for- 
titude, the courage, the energy, which can bear you 
bravely on to the victory of mental repose through 
such a trial ? 

Perhaps you think your own strength of mind will 
be sufficient to sustain you in such adversity. Vain 
idea ! Know you not that in such great emergencies 
the most self-reliant minds become weak, timid, par- 
alyzed, and confounded. A fearful sense of impo- 
tence steals over them. Their reason reels, and 
shrinking from the terrible conflict with Providence, 
they either sink into imbecile melancholy, or 



90 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

plunge madly and unbidden into the mysterious 
presence-chamber of Deity. Let me give you a 
sad example of the latter result. 

There were two merchant princes, brothers and 
partners, one of whom resided in New Orleans and 
the other in Mobile. Their wealth was immense, 
their experience large, their skill uncommon. A 
great monetary hurricane swept over the seas of com- 
merce, and many a mercantile house perished, but 
their proud bark defied the storm and rode through 
it unharmed. 

Time passed, and at a period when the business 
world was generally prospering, these merchant 
princes suddenly found their affairs embarrassed, and 
they failed. Overwhelmed by this great trial, one of 
the brothers plunged, like a madman, into the waters, 
and entered the presence of his Maker a shivering 
suicide. The other, on learning what his brother 
had done, followed his guilty example, and also 
rushed unbidden into the Eternal Presence! Thus 
these men, so strong, so self-reliant, and so long 
prosperous, found their great strength dissolved to 
weakness in the hour which tried their souls. 

A scarcely less melancholy, but more striking 



THE DAEK DAYS OF LIFE. 91 

illustration of the insufficiency of mere mental 
strength to sustain a mortal man in the hour of un- 
expected calamity, is found in the life of Napoleon. 
On the day preceding the battle of Borodino, Napoleon 
was in excellent health and most joyous spirits. Late 
in the evening he received a dispatch informing him 
that his troops in Spain had been badly beaten at Sal- 
amanca. Immediately a singular change passed over 
him. In that disaster he saw the index finger of fate 
pointing to his final overthrow, and he was troubled. 
He retired to his couch but could not sleep. He arose, 
talked incoherently, ordered three days' rations to be 
distributed among his guard at midnight, and seemed 
to be consuming with fever of mind and body. The 
next day he was irresolute, ill-humored, and inferior 
to himself on the field of battle. In fact, the news 
from Salamanca overwhelmed him, and with all his 
strength of mind he staggered beneath it like a 
drunken man. It drove him to the brink of insanity. 
He showed very similar confusion of mind in the 
hours which preceded his abdication ; and when his 
power was finally taken from him, his great heart 
grew sick, and on that sea-girt rock where British 
caution confined him, he pined away, and died as 



92 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

much of a broken heart as of the diseases which 
preyed upon his well-knit frame. 

If, therefore, the strength of this gigantic soul, and 
of those lofty-minded merchants, was insufficient for 
their support in the great emergencies of their lives, 
what can you expect but to be crushed beneath your 
sorrows if you dare to confront them without the 
aid of God ^ 

Perhaps you think that the sympathy of friends 
will give courage to your heart and energy to your 
will in your hours of calamity. But are you sure 
that adversity will not prove an enchanter's wand, and 
transform your friends into strangers '? Is it not pos- 
sible that, as the prodigal was abandoned, in his hour 
of misfortune, by those who smiled on him in his 
days of plenty, so may you be forsaken by those who 
now profess undying attachment to you ? The false- 
hood of friendships is proverbial, and when the 
shadows of great trials darken your path, it may 
be your lot to meet 

" That weary, wond'ring, disavowing look'' 
which prosperous selfishness knows but too well how 
to give those whose fallen fortunes render their 
friendship no longer desirable. In that case the staff 



THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE. 93 

on which you lean will become a serpent to wound 

your hand, and send its poison with throbs of agony 

into your bursting heart. Then you will comprehend 

the meaning of the poet, who, speaking of friendship, 

says : 

" Wake np the countless dead ; ask every gliost 
Whose influence tortured or consoled tlie most ; 
How each pale specter of the host would turn 
From the fresh laurel and the glorious urn, 
To point where rots heneath a nameless stone 
Some heart in which had ebb'd and flow'd its own ?" 

Ay, it is even so. From our dearest friends come 
our sweetest pleasures and our bitterest woes ; for 
what grief can be compared with that which is caused 
by the discovery of heartlessness in those whom we 
have loved and trusted ? There is no sorrow like it, 
as David confessed when his harp wailed in melan- 
choly unison with that bitter cry, " Had it been an 
enemy I could have borne it !" 

I know you persuade yourself that your friends are 
true and will not so forsake you in your troubles. Per- 
haps they are, and yet it may be they are not. But 
admit them to be to you as Damon to his Pythias, or 
as Jonathan to David, how know you that they will 
live until the dark days of your adversity begin % or, 



94 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

if they live, how assure yourself that they too will 
not be as deeply immersed in the sea of trouble as 
yourself? Are they not the children of mortality'? 
Is not their prosperity as uncertain as your own? 
How then can you wisely lean on human friendship 
to sustain you in the day of your great need ? Would 
you advise a lame man to lean on a reed? Would 
you venture to cross a storm-swept lake in a boat of 
gossamer '? Why then do you do what is equally foolish, 
rely on human friends whose lives are but as a vapor, 
who wither like grass and fade like flowers '? Remem- 
ber, my friend, the Creator of all men has said : " Cursed 
he the man who trusteth in man^ and maketh flesh his 
arm^ and whose heart de^arteth from the Lord!''' 

If it should be your lot to be bereaved^ as many are, 
of friends, lovers, and relatives, to whom will you 
look for consolation? Death sometimes enters a 
man's social circle as the woodman does his field, 
cutting down every ancient tree and tender sapling, 
and leaving him, like a solitary tree, to cast his 
companionless shadow across the silent scene. Here 
is an illustration : 

The master of a ship died, leaving ' a widow almost 
penniless, a sickly daughter, and a heroic son. 



THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE. 95 

Deprived of her heart's truest love, the widow turned 
with affection and hope to her son. His filial eyes 
flashed responsive love, and his heart nerved itself to 
the task of comforting and supporting his mother and 
sister. He trod the deck of his dead father's ship, and 
gave large promise of early ability to fill his place as 
captain. But sickness smote his noble form w^hile at 
sea. He returned a pale-faced invalid. Two days 
after his arrival at home his mother bent over his bed 
in speechless grief, his fragile sister sat w^eeping at the 
window. Suddenly the young man opened his lan- 
guid eyes, and slowly said : " The— ship— is— sink- 
ing !" His eyes then closed forever. He w^as dead! 

And with his death the widow's hopes were all 
WTecked. Her last earthly helper was dead. She 
was bereft of all save the helpless girl, whose sobbing 
grief only dropped wormwood into the gall which 
was in the cup she was forced to drink. 

Place yourself, my dear reader, without Divine 
comfort, in that widow's place, and tell me how you 
would bear up such a load of woe. Do not evade by 
saying you may never be so bereaved, because you 
know it is almost certain, if you live to mature life, 
that you will be called to stand beside the death-beds 



96 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

of many, if not all, whom you now love best. Your 
patriarchal father, your precious mother, or those 
sharers with yourself of that sweet love-nest, a 
mother's bosom, your brothers and sisters, or that 
dearer self, your beloved companion, or that beauti- 
ful image of yourself, your own dear babe, or all of 
them may pass through the gateway of death before 
your eyes. What will you do in those terrible hours 
of grief? With no heaven-born faith to whisper 
God's loving promises in your ear, to pour the cor- 
dials of hope into your wounded heart, to infuse 
more than mortal strength into your staggering 
spirit, what will you do 1 Who will comfort you, 
when in your sorrow you ask, 

" And shall I never more see loving eyes 
Look into mine imtil my dying day?" 

With the lights of your earthly life put out, and no 
beamings from heaven to illuminate your dwelling, 
what, O what will you do ? The words of men will 
fall upon your ears like the creak of the rusty hinge 
on your chamber door, and you will be comfortless. 
Like the captive bird, dashing itself against the wires 
of its cage, until its poor little head and wings are 
sore and bleeding, you will bruise your heart against 



THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE. 97 

your great affliction. Perhaps you will exclaim, as 
did an impatient lady in her bereavement, " God 
gave me all, and took all from me. Fate, drop the 
curtain ; I can lose no more." 

Or with Euripides you will sigh: "My heart is 
full of sorrow ; there is no room for more." 

Or, rising in malignant rebellion, you will wickedly 
cry, with a bereaved deist : "I intend to do all I can 
to revenge myself on the Almighty for the wrongs he 
hath inflicted upon me 1" 

At best, as an irreligious man, you can but chafe 

your bruised heart until it bleeds from every pore, 

and at length tutor yourself into dogged submission, 

feeling with one poet that 

''When we have learn' d the very worst, 
The spirit soon must yield or burst;" 

and saying, perchance, with another: 

"Mute 
The camel labors with the heaviest load, 
And the wolf dies in silence. 

If they, 
Things of ignoble or of savage mood, 
Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay 
May temper it to bear — it is but for a day." 

But such submission will bring little comfort. It 

\^dll deaden the poignancy of 3^our grief by harden- 

T 



98 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

ing your sensibilities, but it will leave your heart an 
arid plain, without a stream to refresh it or a flower 
to adorn it, O saddening prospect! O gloomy 
afternoon of a life that had so bright and hopeful a 
beginning! Pause, fond youth, and provide thyself 
with a covert from these foreboded storms, with oil 
for the healing of these inevitable heart-wounds, 
with a holy Comforter for these hours of mortal 
agony : 

"Now in tliy youth, beseech of him 
"Who giveth, uphraiding not, 

That his light in thy heart become not dim, 
Nor his love be unforgot. 

And thy God, in the darkest days, shall be 

Greenness, and beauty, and strength to thee." 

There are many other forms in which affliction 
may visit you, for it is a dragon with many heads. 
You may, to suppose one more case, be made the 
victim of some torturing disease, which may seize 
you with a grasp as harsh as that of an executioner 
of the Inquisition, and so severe as to thrill you with 
exquisite pain, and so enduring that your slow wast- 
ing life may become one long agony. In such a case 
of what value would wealth, friendship, human sym- 
pathy, m.ental strength, or aught else of earthl} 



THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE. 99 

origin, be to your poor imprisoned spirit? Alas, 
nothing! Unsupported by Divine comfort, your 
inner life would be more painful than your outward 
sufferings. Lashed into a perpetual tempest, your 
feelings would dash against your trials, like angry 
waves surging upon the rock-ribbed sides of an ocean 
isle ; and your soul, like a foundered ship, would sink 
into a great deep of fathomless despair. 

Having thus faithfully, though faintly, set before 
you your prospects, as an impenitent sinner, under 
the probable afflictions of coming life, let me now 
lead you to the contemplation of a brighter picture, 
by showing you what piety would do for you in such 
afflictions as I have described. 

At the battle of Wagram Napoleon rode slowly 
along the front of his troops, mounted on a snow- 
white charger. Shots were flying about him in every 
direction, and many who beheld him expected every 
moment to see him fall from his horse. But he rode 
as undisturbed amid the horrors of that terrible 
battle-field as he would have been at a mere parade. 
Why was this? Napoleon believed in fate. In his 
opinion the ball that was to kill him was not cast ; or 
if it was, it was useless to attempt to escape its 



100 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

range. This belief kept him calm in the midst of the 
most appalling dangers. 

In the battle-field of life, with changes, risks, dan- 
gers, and troubles on every side, the pious man main- 
tains a similar but far nobler serenity of mind. His 
mind is possessed hy a sense of security. He feels 
confident that no real harm can befall him. He may 
have malignant enemies, business may be uncertain, 
domestic trials like sharp arrows may pierce his 
breast, disease may be tugging on the strings of his 
life, the waters of affliction may be breaking in proud 
waves against his dwelling, yet he feels safe. Why ? 
Does he, like Napoleon, believe in fate ? Nay. But 
he does believe that God is pledged to protect him. 
"The eternal God is his refuge, and underneath are 
the everlasting arms," and that God whom he trusts 
has said to his heart, " Fear not ; for I have redeemed 
thee. I have called thee by thy name, thou art mine. 
When thou passest through the waters, I will be with 
thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow 
thee : when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt 
not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon 
thee." Isa. xliii, 1, 2. Hearing these words of assur- 
ance, he goes throiigh the thick of life's battle, singing : 



THE DAEK DAYS OF LIFE. 101 

" Go, then, earthly fame and treasure ; 

Come disaster, scorn, and pain ; 
In Thy service pain is pleasure, 

With thy favor loss is gain. 
I have called thee, Abba, Father, 

I have set my heart on thee ; 
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, 

All MUST work for good to me." 

A dew-drop, falling into the sea, beheld the wild 
waves with terror, and cried, " I perish in this grave." 
But an open shell received it, and that drop of dew 

" Into a pearl of marvelous beauty grew." 

Shortly after a diver tore the shell from its ocean- 
bed, and then the pearl cried, " Now I perish quite !" 
But scarcely had it finished its complaint, before it 
found itself shining the " chief jewel in a monarch's 
diadem." 

In this beautiful fable you see one interpretation 
which piety would enable you to put upon your 
afflictions. They might alarm you at first, but when 
at length you fully comprehended that as the dew- 
drop grew into a pearl through its dreaded immer- 
sion, so your troubles would grow into a " far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory," you would 
extract joy from grief, and pleasure from pain. 



102 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

Would it not sweeten every bitter drop in the cup 
of jour affliction to see in it the element of one of 
the pearls of your future crown ? 

Another use of affliction which you would discover 
is suggested by the following illustration. 

An adventurous hunter, having visited the interior 
of Africa in search of game, often noticed a little gray 
bird twittering and chattering on the branch of the 
nearest tree. It seemed greatly excited, and anxious 
to attract his attention. When it had fairly won his 
notice, it darted forward in wavy lines, still keeping 
up its incessant twitter, as if inviting him to follow its 
fflght. Allured by its strange manner, he one day 
followed it until it reached a hollow tree. Hovering 
over this tree a moment, it pointed to it with its bill, 
and then, quietly perching on a neighboring branch, 
watched his movements. Guided by the action 
of the bird the hunter looked into the hollow of 
the tree, and found a nest of wild bees well stocked 
with honey and wax. He afterward learned that 
this little chatterer was named the " honey-bird," 
and that the natives were in the habit of relying 
upon its guidance when in quest of the sweet stores 
of the bees. 



THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE. 103 

Now, just what that honey-bird was to the hunter, 
affliction will be to you if you become a Christian. 
It will attract you from selfish pursuits to sweet 
stores of religious joy ; it will lead you out of your- 
self and into God. In your earlier experiences you 
may be perplexed at times to know its purpose, but 
you will soon learn to recognize it as your heavenly 
[Father's messenger-bird to conduct you to richer store- 
houses of his grace, and you will learn with Paul to 
say : " He chastened us for our profit^ that vje might be 
partakers of his holiness.^^ Is not this perception of 
the purpose of affliction also calculated to promote 
your joy in grief? 

An example or two of believers in affliction, taken 
from actual life, will convince you that these views 
are not mere theories. Look first at a Christian on 
the rack of long protracted pain. 

Many years ago a poor cripple had his abode in a 
comfortless hovel near the entrance to a large church. 
His limbs were so paralyzed he could neither sit up- 
right in bed, nor raise his hand to his mouth, nor turn 
from side to side. Could outward circumstances be 
more unfavorable to happiness ? Yet this poor Serv- 
ULus was one of the happiest men in the place. 



104 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

Unable to read himself, he begged every pious niAa - , 
who visited him to read to him from his Bible, and !J j 
thus made himself acquainted with most of its con- 
tents. Amid unceasing sufferings, and through many 
years, he spent most of the time in praising God. 
And when his hour of departure arrived, he joined his 
watchers in singing a psalm. Suddenly he ceased 
and cried aloud : 

" Hush ! hear you not how the praises of God re- 
sound in heaven ?" and forsaking his deformed earthly 
tabernacle, he became the occupant of a mansion in 
heaven. Did a wicked man ever endure such pain 
and poverty as this with such patience, contentment, 
and joy fulness 1 Never, since God made man ! 

Now go with me for a moment, in imagination, 
into yonder humble cottage. Hush! Tread softly! 
We are in the chamber of human suffering. See that 
pallid youth bolstered up in the arm-chair. The dew 
of death is on his pale brow. How he gasps for 
breath. O, it is hard work to endure the pain which 
racks his wasted body. The spectacle wrings bitter 
sobs from his agonized father, who stands beside him 
overwhelmed with grief. The old man's tears move 
the sick youth's sympathies, and gathering up his 



THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE. 105 

little remaining strength, he whispers, while a seraphic 
smile plays upon his thin lips : 

" It's all right, father. It's all right !" 

It'^s all right ! Yes, that youth's eye of faith looked 
into God's heart of love and saw its love-beats ; saw 
that love permitted those afflictions, and that love 
would reward his patient endurance of them with an 
eternal weight of glory. With that perception it was 
easy to submit; easy to feel and to say, "It's all 
right, father!" 

This perception is given to all the children of faith, 
and it works a submissio7i to affliction in every form, 
which robs it of half its severity. It is the resistance 
of the will to trouble which gives it its chief power 
to wound, and that power is taken away the moment 
the mind consents to suiFer quietly, on the ground that 
its highest interests are to be surely promoted by the 
suffering. From such submission flow consolation, 
strength, and elevated character. It is a silvery 
stream of bliss rumiing through a heart in which 
flowers and shrubs have been blackened and burned 
by the flame of fiery trials. 

How superior is this submission to that dogged 
necessitated submission which is the highest attain- 



106 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

meiit of the impenitent mind ! The latter is undigni- 
fied, morose, cold, and unrefreshing. It is, in fact, 
onlj a negative submission, by which the man merely 
ceases to dash himself upon the bosses of God's buck- 
ler. But the former is a real submission, by which 
the believer consents to drink the cup put into his 
hands, because heavenly love wills it, and assures him 
that it is only bitter medicine necessary for his soul's 
healing. With this assurance he drinks it cheerfully, 
and then nestles in the bosom of the Omnipotent, 
singing : 

*' Bless 'd be Thy hand, whether it shed 
Mercies or blessings o'er my head; 
Extend the scepter or the rod, 
Bless 'd hand I 'tis thee, thy hand, my God 1" 

Consider, therefore, beloved reader, whether the 
value of piety, as a light in the dark days of life, is 
not one of its most precious commendations. I have 
shown you that the coming of such days is as certain 
as the fact of your existence ; that as a worldling you 
will have no real comforter amid their terrors; and 
that piety will bring you abundant sources of sweetest 
consolation. What then will you do? Will you 
continue in your sins, and sink in despair in the sure- 



I 



THE DAEK DAYS OF LIFE. 107 

coming hours of grief? God forbid ! Will you give 
your heart to God, saying from this time, "My 
Father, thou art the guide of my youth f God be 
praised ! for by so doing you become invulnerable to 
the shafts of that sorrow which worketh death, and 
you will learn to sing at all times this song of faith 
and hope ; 

" I will not let Thee go, thou help in time of need ! 

Heap ill on ill, 

I tnist thee still, 
E'en when it seems as thou woiildst slay indeed. 

Do as thou wilt with me, 

I still will cling to thee ; 
Hide thou thy face, yet, help in the time of need, 

I will not let thee go ! 

*' I will not let thee go ; should I forsake my bhss ? 

No, Lord, thou'rt mine. 

And I am thine ; 
Thee will I hold when all things else I miss. 

Though dark and sad the night, 

Joy Cometh with thy light, 
thou, my Sun ; should I forsake thy bliss ? 

I will not let thee go." 



108 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



CHAPTER VI. 

PLEASUEES PECULIAR TO PEETY. 

SouTHEY, in his Chronicles of the Cid, relates a curi- 
ous legend. At the dead of the night preceding a great 
battle between the Spaniards and the Moors, the in- 
habitants of Leon heard a mighty sound as if it were 
the tramp of a great army marching through their 
streets. This spirit army was nothing but the phan- 
tom of the excited imaginations of the people. Yet 
it broke their repose and disturbed their peace. And, 
in like manner, is the pleasure of a sinner- broken by 
the march of his past sinful deeds through the cham- 
bers of his unpardoned spirit. Let him prosper like 
a Girard or an Astor, let him be gay as a Lothario, 
let him fill up the hours of life with the engagements 
of business or the excitements of pleasure, still there 
will be moments in which his senses will become 
dead to all external things, and his soul be compelled 
to listen to the unceasing march of his past misdeeds 



PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 109 

along the aisles of life. And then he trembles at the 
mighty sound, for his conscience whispers, "These are 
marching to meet thee at the judgment of Him 
against whom they were committed." Great is the 
unrest of such a soul, for it realizes that there is " no 
peace to the wicked," and without peace, of what 
value are all his gains and pleasures ? 

But peace^ which is beyond the reach of the proud- 
est impenitent sinner, is the inheritance of the weak- 
est believer in Christ. It is given to him the mo- 
ment he believes, as a legacy bequeathed him by the 
last will and testament of the Lord Jesus, in these 
delightful words : " Peace I leave with you, my peace 
I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I 
unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither 
let it be afraid." 

O how like the unruffled surface of a sunlit moun- 
tain lake is the breast of the man to whom this peace 
is given ! God smiles on him and encircles him in 
his mighty arms, therefore his heart is at rest. No 
past sins march around the chambers of his spirit, for 
his offenses are all blotted out of the book of God ; 
no voices of threatening murmur in his conscience, for 
he holds the "m_ystery of faith in a pure conscience;" 



110 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

no fears of future retribution terrify him, for the 
Ancient of Days has said to him, " I, even I, am he 
that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own 
sake, and will not remember thy sins." With the 
great apostle he stands at the cross and exclaims, 
" Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace 
with God through our Lord Jesus Christ ;" and with 
a sacred poet his glad heart smgs : 

" A peaceful river softly flows 

In tranquil streams, to gladden those 

"Who put their trust in God. 
"Within his holy place we feel 
The comfort of his presence still, 

While oceans roll abroad." 

What can the world oiFer thee, my young friend, 
that will compare with the preciousness of this divine 
peace '? Is a lifetime of carnal delight worth an hour 
of such heavenly repose? Think ! can gold, ambition, 
gluttony, lust, grandeur, or amusements compensate 
an immortal soul for its anxieties respecting the 
results of its conflict with God, and for the absence of 
the " peace of God ?" It cannot be. Peace is neces- 
sary to true enjoyment. And peace is to be found 
only in the service of Piety. " Her ways," and hers 
only, " are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths 



PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. Ill 

ARE PEACE 1" Enter her service and she will confer 
this precious peace upon you. 

A delicate child once lost her mother at an early 
age. She was very affectionate, and the image of her 
sainted mother lived in her heart. Clinging to the 
neck of her lady attendant, she would frequently say, 
" Now tell me about my mamma !" After feasting 
on what she heard awhile, she would say : " Now 
take me into the parlor, I want to see my mamma !" 
Carried to the parlor, and placed on a sofa opposite a 
portrait of her mother, she would gaze for hours on 
the silent picture. But she was a frail flower, and the 
dew of death was on her brow. One day she be- 
came unconscious for hours. Then a sudden bright- 
ness broke over her pale face, her eyelids opened, her 
lips parted, her thin hands were stretched out as if 
reaching for some object which her eyes beheld in the 
distance. After a few moments she cried : " Mother ! 
mother !" and expired. 

In this touching fact you see the operations and 
power of love. Love was the life of that child. It 
was her soul's atmosphere. To commune with the 
memory of her mother was her meat and drink, 
her chief delight, her highest bliss. This was an 



112 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

earthly love, yet it illustrates the operations and 
power of that divine love which is brought into the 
heart of every believer in Jesus. 

Love to Christ is the principal thing in piety. It 
is born in the moment of conversion, and when born 
it immediately becomes the life of the new-born 
believer and the mother of every Christian virtue. 
Like the child, he dwells with ever increasing delight 
on the character of his beloved, and communes, not 
with his memory merely, but with the Saviour himself, 
for " his fellowship is with the Father, and with his 
Son Jesus Christ." And that communion is real 
rapture. It stirs the depths of his emotional nature. 
It causes his heart-strings to give forth their most 
delicious music. It swells his soul with throbs of un- 
speakable joy. It makes him a participant of those 
pleasures which constitute the felicity of heaven. 
When not too happy to give expression in language 
to his joy, he sings with the poet : 

" love, thou bottomless abyss ! 

My sins are swallowed up in thee ; 
Covered is my unrighteousness, 

Nor spot of guilt remains on me ; 
"While Jesus' blood, through earth and skies, 
Mercy, free, boundless mercy, cries. 



PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 113 

" By faith I plunge me in this sea ; 

Here is my hope, my joy, my rest ; 
Hither, when hell assails, I flee ; 

I look into my Saviour's breast ; 
Away, sad doubt and anxious fear I 
Mercy is all that's written there." 

Let me give you a few testimonies, from the lips of 
the children of God, to the bliss of divine love. 
Hear Augustine. He says : " Come, O thou joy of 
my spirit ! Let me behold thee, O life of my soul ! 
Appear unto me, my great delight, my sweet com- 
fort ! O my God, my life, and the whole glory of 
my soul ! Let me hold thee, O love of my soul ! 
Let me embrace thee, O heavenly bridegroom ! Let 
me possess thee !" 

See yonder cottage standing alone on the edge of 
a bleak, barren moor. The day is cold and stormy, 
yet a faithful pastor has just dismounted from his 
horse at that cottage door. He is going to visit the 
resident of the cottage. Let us enter with him. 
What a lone and cheerless room ! The snow has 
been drifting through the roof, and under the door, on 
the uncarpeted floor. There is scarcely an ember 
burning on the hearth. Mark that old, trembling man, 
seated in a broken arm-chair, with an open Bible 



114 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

upon his knees. How serene his aspect ! See the 
rapture in his eyes, the sweet smile upon his lips. 
Hark ! The pastor speaks, and says : 

" What are you about to-day, John f 

" Ah, sir," the happy old man replies, " I am sit- 
ting under His shadow with great delight 1" 

Sitting under His shadow toith great delight ! What 
an overflowing fountain of bliss must the love of 
Christ have been within that child of poverty to make 
him so sublimely superior to outward circumstan- 
ces ! No wonder that another holy man — the perse- 
cuted Ruth-erford — could say : " There is more to be 
had of Christ than I conceived. Christ is so good that 
I would have no other tutor, if I could have choice of 
ten thousand besides. The saints at their best are 
but strangers to the weight and worth of the incom- 
parable sweetness of Christ. He is so new, so fresh 
in excellency every day to those that search more and 
more in him. O, we love an unknown lover when 
we love Christ !" 

Such is the love which is the life of pious souls. It 
absorbs all their emotional nature, and satisfies its 
highest demands, for its object is the Infinite One. It 
is ever fresh, new, and increasingly delightful, because 



PLEASUEES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 115 

the manifestations of its beloved are constantly re- 
ne^^ed, and are exhanstless as infinity. Its exercise 
calls forth the deepest and most exquisite feeling of 
which the human soul is capable. It kindles the 
flames of inextinguishable desire. There is nothing 
in merely human love worthy to be compared with 
it. Parental, filial, fraternal, conjugal loves, though 
refined and intensified by its influence, are but as stars 
of palest light to the midday sun when compared 
with it. It fills the soul and leaves it nothing to 
wish. It elevates, ennobles, and develops all that is 
great and beautiful in humanity. It raises the human 
to the divine, and by enabling the man to dwell in 
God, renders him so superior to changeful circumstan- 
ces, that he can say with the strong-hearted Paul : " I 
am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, 
nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor 
things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other 
creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of 
God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." 

Are you panting for enjoyment, my dear young 
reader? Would you drink deep draughts of the 
sweetest stream of delight that ever flowed through 
the human spirit ? If so, give yourself to God, and 



116 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

let him "shed his love abroad in your heart," 
Then, and not till then, will you taste the true 
elixir of life. 

Another pleasure of the pious heart may be seen in 
the following simple incident : 

" See !" said a rich landowner to a poor peasant, as 
he pointed to the beautiful landscape around them; 
"those broad fields, those magnificent parks, those 
dense forests, those snug farms, and, in short, all you 
can see on every side, belong to me !" 

The poor man looked thoughtfully a moment at the 
great landholder, and then, with the rapture of faith 
burning in his eyes, looking toward heaven he pointed 
upward and said : 

" And is that also thine '?" 

The lord of that vast landscape was silent. Before 
the peasant's question the glory of his possessions 
faded into mist. His portion all lay this side the 
grave, which was the horizon of his grandest hopes. 
But the poor man, looking with the eye of faith upon his 
mansion in heaven, felt the rapture of a hope which 
brought the heavenly and the infinite into his bosom. 
His spiritual ear heard the Master saying, " In my 
Father's house are many mansions. I go to prepare 



PLEASUKES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 117 

a place for you." Believing these sweet words of holy 
promise, he rose into the consciousness of heirship to 
the divine, and his hopes reveled amid the richness, 
the beauty, the grandeur, the bliss of his imperishable 
inheritance. Thus hope shone upon the darkness of 
his temporary poverty, like the morning star upon 
the brow of night, and filled his soul with cheerfulness 
and strength. 

Such a hope is the peculiar possession of the pious 
man. As an impenitent sinner you may taste the 
pleasures of earthly hope. Your imagination, hand 
in hand with hope, may revel amid beautiful pictures 
of your future greatness or happiness. It may lead 
you up the steep ascent of toil, and seat you on the 
empurpled chair of richly rewarded industry ; it may 
conduct you, amid the plaudits of the many-throated 
crowd, to the bench of the magistrate, the seat of the 
senator, or the pedestal of the victorious soldier ; it 
may picture you in the old arm-chair of the patriarch 
with her who is now, or soon will be, the " winsome " 
sharer of your joys and sorrows, and with your 
children and children's children in happy groups 
around you; or it may exhibit you, like another 
Newton or Milton, receiving the intellectual homage 



118 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

of mankind in return for some magnificent achieve- 
ment of genius which you, it flatteringly whispers, are 
yet to perform. All this, and more, earthly hope 
may do for you without religion, for rich wine al- 
ways sparkles in the full cup which she ofl:ers to the 
lips of her favorites. But she cannot afford you one 
pleasant anticipation when you attempt to peer into 
the life beyond the grave. As the owl closes hex 
eyes when the daylight shines, so earthly hope shuts 
her eyelids when the brightness of the immortal 
world breaks upon her. 

Moreover, earthly hope is the veriest flatterer and 
"will-o'-the-wisp" in the world. Rarely does she 
perform half she promises. She is also fickle as the 
wind, forsaking without a sigh all whom she de- 
ceives. Alas for him who fails to win the objects 
with which she enchants him! Hope leaves him 
desolate, dies in him, because, the earthly being lost, 
all is lost, 

" And hope without an object cannot live." 

Would you like to study the desolation of an un- 
renewed heart when hope forsakes it] Bead with 
attention the following terrible lines : 



PLEASUEES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 119 

" The tree will wither long before its fall ; 

The hull drives on. though mast and sail be torn ; 
The roof-tree sinks, but molders on the hall 
In massive hoariness ; the ruined wall 

Stands when its wind-worn battlements are gone ; 
The bars survive the captive they enthrall ; 
The day drags through, though storms keep out the sun, 
And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on." 

What pictures of despair! A withered tree, a 
"wrecked hull, a rotten roof-tree, a ruined wall, prison 
bars, a sunless day, a broken heart ! Yet thus did 
the hapless poet, writing from experience, describe the 
impenitent heart from which earthly hope has taken 
flight. The agony of the dying gladiator is tame in 
presence of this spectacle of a soul without hope. 

But let us return to that di\dne hope which dwelt 
in the poor peasant's breast. She is an angel of life 
to every pious soul. ' Her promises are not flatteries, 
but sure words from the mouth of God. She charms 
not to forsake, but is faithful as the Eternal Spirit 
by whom she is begotten. All human friends may 
forsake the godly man, all earthly comforts be cut off, 
the spirits of all earth-born woes may hold a grim 
festival of grief under his roof, and wring from his 
tortured heart a wish for the coming of death ; yet 
§ven then this divine hope will not aba;ndon him. 



120 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

As the angel sought the discouraged prophet of fire 
under the juniper-tree with words of cheer and food 
of mighty strength, so hope will bring him bright- 
ness, and power, and pleasure in his distress. Aided 
by her, he will look up from the lowest deep of hu- 
man sorrow and sing : 

" A country far from mortal siglit ; 

Yet, 0, by faitli I see 
The land of rest, tlie saint's delight — 

The heaven prepared for me !" 

A sublime illustration of the power of hope is found 
in the unique language of "Jack," a deaf mute, as 
given by " Charlotte Elizabeth." Speaking by signs 
— of course — of the day of judgment, he said God 
would open the book in which he had written all 
Jack's "bads;" God would find the page full, he 
said, but would not be able to read it. He would 
see nothing ; for when he first prayed Jesus Christ had 
taken the book, and opening the wound in his hand, 
he had let it bleed all down the page, so that God 
could see none of Jack's sins, only Jesus's blood. 
Finding nothing against him, God would close the 
book, and Jesus would say, " My Jack !" put his arm 
around him, and bid him stand with the angels. 



PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 121 

Beautiful conception ! Ho^Y strong, yet how sim- 
ple wsls that child's faith ! How delightful and full 
of cheer was his hope, founded upon it, of perfect 
safety in that day which is to try the souls of men ! 

Would you then, my young friend, taste the pleas- 
ures of heavenly hope? Give your heart to Christ! 
Would you possess that hope which anchors the soul 
so safely that it outrides the most terrific storms of 
life? Give your heart to Christ! Would you al- 
ways carry the sweet singing bird of paradise in your 
breast ? Give your heart to Christ ! Thus will you 
share the delight of good old Rutherford, who, after 
enduring great trials with great enjoyment, said : 

" At the begimiing of my sufferings I had mine own 
fears lest I should faint. And I laid this before the 
Lord, and as sure as he ever spake to me in his word, 
as sure his Spirit witnessed to my heart that he had 
accepted my sufferings, he said to me, Fear not ; the 
outgate shall not he simply matter of prayer hut matter 
of praise .^" 

There are few pleasures so intoxicating to the mind 
as the pleasure of victory. To stand in presence of 
enthusiastic multitudes, as Napoleon stood in Paris 
after his first Italian campaign, to listen to the 



122 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

plaudits of impassioned thousands, to feel oneself the 
object of universal admiration,, is, perhaps, to taste 
the most delicious fruit man can pluck from tree 
of earthly growth. All victories over difficulties 
which tax our powers to overcome them, yield a 
measure of kindred fruit. But more delicious still is 
the fruit of victory over self. He who conquers him- 
self achieves a prouder conquest than Napoleon won 
at Lodi, Areola, or Eivoli, for he overcomes a foe to 
whom even Napoleon was a slave. 

Self is the most stubborn, crafty, and powerful of 
foes, harder to be won than Alpine passes or Eussian 
Sebastopols. Yet he falls under the blows of every 
child of piety. Grace makes its possessor omnipotent 
in the conflict, because his arm is nerved by the Al- 
mighty " Christ that strengtheneth him." Princi- 
palities, powers, fleshly lusts, violent passions, power- 
ful temptations, all fall before his faith, " which over- 
cometh the world." His life is a series of victories, 
and therefore a series of pure and lofty pleasures. 

In all solicitations to evil the great inducement to 
sin is the pleasure which the inordinate indulgence of 
some appetite or passion is supposed to yield. But 
how momentary is that delight ! How speedily it is 



PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 123 

succeeded by the pangs of remorse and conscious self- 
degradation ! When old Homer pictured the guests of 
Calypso, after feasting at her luxurious banquets, 
changed into beasts, he taught a truth familiar to the 
thoughts of every self-enslaved man. Who ever 
tasted the pleasure of sinful indulgence without feel- 
ing that he had dragged himself down from manhood's 
fitting elevation toward the level of the brute — with- 
out calling himself the most witless of fools ] On the 
contrary, who ever came out of a conflict with the 
flesh victorious, without a heightened sense of self- 
respect, a refreshing consciousness of power, and 
a peaceful elevation of spirit, yielding a thousandfold 
more delight than could be gained from the most 
unbounded indulgence ? Would you taste this 
pleasure of self-conquest, my reader? Become a 
Christian, for this also is a pleasure peculiar to 
godliness. 

Numerous other pleasures equally peculiar to piety 
might be named, such as communing with God in 
prayer, in his word, and in his ordinances. Then 
there are the pleasures of charity, such as feeding the 
poor, clothing the naked, visiting the sick, comforting 
the sorrowful, and leading lost souls to Chi'ist. Last, 



124 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

but not least, are the delights of public and social 

worship, which are so exquisite to a truly pious soul 

as to fully justify the preference of a great monarch, 

who once said : " I would rather be a doorkeeper in 

the house of God, than to dwell in the tents of mcked- 

ness." And every spiritual worshiper can, without 

exaggeration, join the poet in this sweet and simple 

song : 

" One day in such a place 

Where thon, my God, art seen, 
Is sweeter than ten thousand days 
Of pleasurahle sin. 

" My wining soul would stay 

In such a fi'ame as this, 
And sit and sing herself away 

To everlasting bliss." 

These facts and arguments must convmce you, be- 
loved youth, that if you would enjoy the highest hap- 
piness of which you are capable, you must enter the 
pathway of piety, if peace that passeth understand- 
ing, love that begets joy unspeakable, hope that 
brightens with immortality, consciousness of self con- 
quest, the delights of charity and of divine worship, 
are the peculiar and precious gifts of piety, your 
interests, to say nothing of your duty, require you 



PLEASUEES PECULIAB TO PIETY. 125 

to listen to her voice. Give heed, therefore, to her 
call. Enter her pleasant paths. Submit to her guid- 
ance. Let her lead you to the blessed Jesus, who 
even now is saying to you : " Come unto me^ all ye 
that labor and are heavy laden^ and I will give you 
rest, TaTce my yoke upon you^ and learn of we," 
^^ and ye shall find rest unto your souls; for my yoke 

IS EASY, AND MY BURDEN IS LIGHT." 

" Lord ! how happy is the tune 

"When in thy love I rest, 
When from my weariness I climb 

E'en to thy tender breast. 
The night of sorrow endeth there, 

Thy rays outshine the sun. 
And in thy pardon, and thy care. 

The heaven of heavens is won. 

"Let the world call itself my foe, 

Or let the world allure, 
1 care not for the world — I go 

To this tried Friend and sure. 
And when life's fiercest storms are sent 

Upon life's wildest sea, 
My little bark is confident. 

Because it holds by Thee." 



126 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



CHAPTER YIl. 

HOW TO WIInT VICTOEY EST DEATH. 

Two noble ships were sailing on the sea in a night 
of storm and darkness. The storm-spirit had not 
burst suddenly from the cave of the winds, but had 
sent avant-couriers across the skj through the after- 
noon in the shape of frowning clouds. In one of 
those ships these harbingers of danger, though noticed, 
had been but lightly regarded. In the other their 
warning glances had been the signal to prepare the 
ship for a conflict with the gale. In the first vessel 
everything went on as usual. No precautions were 
taken. In the second everything that prudent fore- 
cast could suggest was done. Relieving tackles were 
hooked to the helm, a spare tiller was got out, the 
binnacle lights were carefully trimmed, extra lanterns 
were lighted, and the ship made as snug as possible. 

As the evening waned into night the storm broke 
fiercely upon the sea, and the two ships, under double- 



HOW TO WIN VICTORY I JST DEATH. 127 

reefed topsails, were running before the gale. A 
steady helm was necessary to their safety. For a 
while both vessels ran grandly before the mighty 
breeze. But presently a huge sea broke over them 
and put out their binnacle lights. In the unprepared 
ship no extra lights were ready, and the compass was 
left in total darkness. The helmsman was perplexed, 
and the ship broached to. In the confusion the sea 
broke over her again, tearing away her bulwarks, 
sweeping her decks, and leaving her a helpless 
wreck. In a few hours she foundered, and nearly 
all her hapless crew were engulfed in the pitiless 
waters. 

In the other ship, the moment after the binnacle 
light was put out a lighted lantern, ready for such an 
emergency, supplied its place. Her helm was kept 
steady. She was saved. A few days later, with all 
hands aboard, with sails all set and streamers flying, 
she glided into port, majestic as a noble swan. 

These ships, with the opposite results of their 
respective voyages, are images of the opposite desti- 
nies which await human voyagers on the sea of life. 
Like the incautious captain, men may slight the 
clouds of admonition which flit across their sky, and 



128 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

sink engulfed in waves of ruin; or, imitating the 
prudent commander, they may heed the friendly 
warning, and sail in triumph into the calm haven of 
immortal repose. Indeed, the end of every mortal's 
life must be a fearful wreck or a great success. 
There is no middle course. A terrible cry of 
despair or a gladsome shout of victory must escape 
from the lips of every man when death dismisses his 
spirit from the chamber of life. Which cry he will 
utter depends upon the preparation he makes for 
that critical hour. 

Now, my dear reader, let me remind you of the 
trite but solemn fact that you must shortly do battle 
with this great foe to life. The grim archer has the 
unerring shaft in his quiver which is destined to 
pierce your heart ; or it may be even now on the 
string of his mighty bow. Who dares say it is not? 
In either case your hour of doom draweth nigh, 
for, as saith Schiller : 

" With hasty step death presses on, 
Nor grants to man a moment's stay ; 

He falls ere half his race is nm, 

In manhood's prime is swept away ; 

Prepared or unprepared to die, 
He stands before his Judge on high.'* 



HOW TO WIN yiCTORY IK DEATH. 129 

This is an unpleasant theme to you, young heir of 
mortality, I know. You do not like to contem- 
plate this, your inevitable inheritance. Still, since 
you must enter upon it, is it prudent to avert your 
eye and refuse to give it consideration *? Better, far 
better, to study it, tremble before it, and by timely 
preparation prepare to receive it with joy and not 
with grief. 

When Rachel, the great tragic actress, was dying, 
she caused her jewels and trinkets to be brought and 
placed before her on the bed. Their presence 
revived the memory of her public triumphs, for 
among the precious gems were the costly gifts which 
high-born nobles and puissant princes had laid at her 
feet. She gazed at them long and earnestly. Her 
eyes flashed, her pale cheeks flushed, and in piercing 
tones she cried : " Why have I to part with all this so 
soon ?" and died ! 

Poor Rachel ! all the treasures of her heart were 
in this world, and could not be taken with her into 
the next, for " shrouds have no pockets." Beyond the 
dark river she had nothing, for she had laid up no 
treasure there. No wonder she hugged life with the 
embrace of despair. She had everything to bind 



130 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

her to earth, nothing to attract her to the world 
beyond. 

Here is another sketch. A rude old fisherman, speak- 
ing of death to a friend, said : " I know well enough 
that some rough winter night the old sea will be my 
grave — 'tis not that I stand in dread of — 'tis what 
a spirit may meet with if it gets a launch off from 
this shore with no notion how to make for the other." 

These pencilings bring into relief two facts, which 
make death a disagreeable contemplation to all the 
ungodly. 1. In heaven they have no loved objects. 
2. They have no spirit-kindled eye of faith to pierce 
the mists and vapor which float between the tomb and 
eternity. How different with the pious soul ! His 
treasure is in heaven, for Jesus is the object of his 
affections, and his eye of faith beholds the cross of 
Christ spanning the mystic gulf which lies between 
every death-bed and the celestial city. To him, there- 
fore, death is not a repugnant topic. He does not 
shrink from its contemplation. Nay, he loves to think 
of it, to desire it, to pant for it. As saith the poet : 

" Elvers to the ocean run, 

Nor stay in all their course ; 
Fire ascending seeks the sun ; 

Both speed them to their source : 



HOW TO WIN VICTORY INDEATH. 131 

So a soul that's bom of God 
Pants to view Ms glorious face ; 

Upward tends to Ms abode, 
To rest in Ms embrace." 

Is not this mental tranquillity in prospect of death 
a priceless blessing ? Next to dying well is it not the 
most desirable of possessions ? Were it yours would 
it not save you from many anxious thoughts, many 
painful apprehensions ? Become a Christian and you 
will possess it, for one great purpose of the Saviour's 
death was " to deliver them who through fear of 
death were all their lifetime subject to bondage^ 

But if your anticipations of death are painful, how 
terrible it will be to actually meet death ! I do not 
affirm that you will be filled with terror in your 
dying moments; for like, perhaps, the majority of 
mankind, you may be unconscious in your last 
moments. As you know, many diseases cause 
delirium, somnolency, or paralysis. In multitudes of 
cases medical men administer opiates, which keep the 
dying in slumberous, dreamy, hallucinated conditions. 
Frequently men die suddenly or violently. A fit, a 
bursting blood-vessel, a rupcure of the heart, a fall, 
a blow, an epidemic, a railroad or steamboat cas- 
ualty, or some similar catastrophe, smites men down 



182 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

so swiftly that the hand by which they fall is to them 
invisible. In all such cases there is no consciousness, 
consequently neither joy nor grief, hope nor fear, 
delight nor terror. 

Suppose it should be your lot to die in one of these 
unconscious states. Without a Saviour what will 
you do when death, having unrobed your spirit, you 
awake to consciousness in eternity ? Will it not be 
terrible to behold the frown of an angry God, to 
hear the voice of the avenger cry : ^^He that is unjust 
let him be unjust still, and he which is filthy let him he 
filthy still f^ to be bound in chains of darkness, and 
cast into the lake of everlasting fire? But with a 
Saviour an unconscious death will be an awakening to 
the ecstasies of unending felicity. Prepare, then, O 
youth, prepare to meet thy God ! 

You may, however, be conscious when death comes 
to unseal the door of life's mysterious chamber, and 
to bid your immortal soul depart to meet its destiny. 
Yet even in that case, though you remain impenitent, I 
dare not affirm positively that the pangs of guilt will 
thrill your conscience, and the fear of approaching 
retribution terrify you. I wish to deal sincerely and 
frankly with you, and therefore I concede that many 



HOW TQ WIN yiCTOKY IN DEATH. 133 

wicked men have no " bands in their death :" they 
die boldly, fearlessly, as the brute dieth. Gibbon, 
who cherished a bitter hatred of Christianity to the 
last, died tranquilly, and exhibited an almost per- 
fect indifference as to his future welfare. Hume, 
the skeptic, conscious of his approaching death, 
spent his last hours in jocular conversation with 
his friends, and in reading amusing books. He 
met death without any apparent perturbation of 
mind. Lord Nelson, though reeking with the sin of 
unrepented adultery, died thanking God he had done 
his duty. Marshal Ney, who certainly was no Chris- 
tian, marched into the presence of his executioners 
with the same serenity of soul and ponip of manner 
with which he had been wont to appear upon a 
parade ground. The Girondists, notable for their 
deism, feasted like epicures, and discoursed like 
philosophers, the night preceding their death. They 
went to the scaffold,- and died singing the Marseil- 
laise with astonishing enthusiasm. Napoleon, trnro- 
pentant of his splendid crimes, met death without tho 
least uneasiness as to his future life. And these 
individuals are the representatives of large classes, 
who, in all spheres of life, and under every variety of 



134 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

circumstances, meet death in the full possession of 
consciousness, unsupported by religious faith, and yet 
without feeling those terrors which often rend the 
consciences of wicked men. 

Do not think, however, that in their death such 
men resemble believers in Christ. There is a dis- 
tance, almost infinite, between their stoical indiffer- 
ence, and the hallowed peace which reigns in the 
bosom of a dying believer. The highest triumph of 
the former is a mere negation ; they merely succeed 
in excluding fear : while the latter not only conquer 
fear, but they attain to a positive joy, arising from 
the contemplation of that future which the former 
are obliged to forget in order -to keep fear quiet. 
The former are not terrified, because they resolutely 
cover their eyes that they may not behold their 
adversary ; the latter gaze upon the foe with open 
face, comprehend his utmost power, and yet triumph ! 
The superiority of the latter over the former is, 
therefore, scarcely less than infinite. No man in 
his senses can deem such calmness as sinners feel in 
such an hour at all desirable. Yet this is the utmost . 
victory that the proudest simiers can achieve in the 
hour of death. Such as it is they have it, either be- 



HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 135 

cause they are ignorant of their true destiny, or 
because, if acquainted with revealed truth, they have 
put it from them until the " god of this world hath 
blinded their minds," and the God of heaven, by 
leaving them alone, " hath blinded their eyes, and 
hardened their heart," so that while " hell from beneath 
is moved " to meet them at their coming, they see 
no danger. Yet, as with the former class, "sudden 
destruction" awaiteth them. Behold the true char- 
acter of their boldness in an illustration. 

The peasant long familiar with the rumbling voices 
and fiery bekhings of a volcanic mountain, builds his 
cottage on some green spot which the burning stream 
of past eruptions has left unscathed, and sleeps at 
night heedless of the mysterious warnings which the 
naountain mutters. The bellowing of the crater is as 
unnoted by that thoughtless sleeper as is the bubbling 
of the brook or the tinkling of the cow-bell by the 
dweller in the vale below. Years of security make 
his serenity appear like the fruit of the ripest wis- 
dom, and seem to justify his scorn of those who 
warn him of the danger which surrounds his home. 
But at length the fiery waves rise up to punish his 
hardihood ; and some fatal night, while he dreams of 



136 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

safety and smiles, red hot arms burst the breast of 
the mountain and drag him, with the smile upon his 
lips, to the burning lake beneath. 

This is a faint image of a bold sinner's death. His 
courage is foolhardiness, his defiant glance at death is 
the expression of a reckless spirit. How quickly his 
bravery forsakes him when, forced from his defiled 
body, his guilty soul stands on the brink of everlast- 
ing burnings, when his offended Creator glances infi- 
nite indignation at him, and says : " Fear ye not me ; 
will ye not tremble at my presence?" "Therefore, 
thus saith the Lord God, Behold I, even I, am against 
thee !" Then will he join the vain cry of guilty 
kings, great men, rich men, and mighty men, to the 
rocks and mountains, saying, "Fall on us and 
hide us from the face of Him that sitteth on the 
throne and from the wrath of the Lamb : for the 
great day of his wrath is come, and who shall be 
able to stand V 

But even this poor comfort of dying " as the fool 
dieth" is not permitted to all impenitent men. It 
may not be to you if you remain unsaved. The 
second death may cast a deep shadow on your 
trembling heart in that solemn hour, as it did on 



HOW TO WIN YICTORY IN DEATH. 137 

the spirit of one to whom I will now introduce 
you. 

There lived a man whom God had endowed with the 
richest gifts of genius. His friends gave him all the 
advantages of the most liberal culture. He meddled 
with all knowledge. He wrote books and the world 
praised him. Learned men almost worshiped him. 
Princes contended for his presence in their dominions. 
Woman poured the wealth of her affections into his 
soul. Honor crowned his brow. Plenty emptied 
her cornucopia at his feet. Health breathed vigor 
into his veins, and made his life one long en- 
joyment. Time touched him gently, and he lived 
to see a green old age. Thus this man possessed 
everything but the smile of God. How did he 
die? 

See him, gray-headed, gray-bearded, and venerable, 
seated in an easy chair near an open window. The 
weary wheels of life move slowly now. His limbs are 
feeble. His breathing is slow. Death is at the door 
of the chamber of life. It opens. The soul of the 
dying man is commanded to go forth — to enter the 
world beyond. A leaden seal closes his senses 
against terrestrial light, but no celestial light pierces 



138 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

his soul. He is startled, cries, " More light !" and 
dies. 

Poor Goethe ! for that was his name, saw no bright- 
ness reflected from the world beyond to cheer his 
dying chamber. But instead, a horror of thick dark- 
ness settled upon him and wrung from his distressed 
heart that fearful cry, "More light!" "More light!" 
That cry was vain. It came too late. He had lived 
without God, and God left him to die in the dark. 
Poor Goethe! poor poet! His life was a brilliant 
day, ending in the blackness of an eternal night. 

Nor is such a death as Goethe's, sad as it was, by 
any means as painful as that of many sinners. To 
some it is given to foretaste the agony of that damna- 
tion which awaits them. Blair had such before his 
eyes when he penned his thrilling description of a re- 
morseful sinner's end. Listen to his painful numbers : 

" In that dread moment how the frantic soul 
Eaves round the walls of her clay tenement, 
Euns to each avenue and shrieks for help, 
But shrieks in vain ! How wishfully she looks 
On all she's leaving, now no longer hers ! 
A little longer ; yet a little longer, 
O might she stay to wash away her stains, 
And fit her for her passage ! Mournful sight ! 
Her very eyes weep blood, and every groan 



HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 139 

She heaves is big with horror. But the foe, 
Like a staunch murderer steady to his purpose, 
Pursues her close through every lane of life ; 
Nor misses once the track, but presses on 
Till, forced at last to the tremendous verge. 
At once she sinks to everlasting ruin." 

Do you think the picture is too deeply shaded ? If 
so, read the following facts : A man who had long heard 
the Gospel preached was sick unto death. A minister 
of my acquaintance went to visit him. As he ascend- 
ed the stairs his ears were startled by the dying man's 
cries of distress. On entering the room he saw two 
men beside his bed. One held his hands to keep him 
from gnawing them in his despair. The other kept 
his feet in bed. His face was the embodiment of 
horror. When he saw the minister he cried, or 
howled rather: 

" O God, don't, don't ! Thou just God, don't, don't, 
don't!" 

After a time his bowlings and violence ceased, and 
he lay with his face buried in the pillow, and moan- 
ing " Mercy ! Mercy ! Mercy !" 

But no ear heeded his piteous cries; no voice 
came to quiet the terrible tumult in his agitated soul. 
He died with the guilt of a lifetime on his spirit. Ho 



140 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

was like those ancient Jews, who said, *' We will walk 
after our own devices, and we will every one do the 
imagination of his evil heart ;" and to whom God had 
said, " I will show them my back, and not my face, in 
the day of their calamity." 

Listen again ! Hear the death-bed cry of the great 
and worldly Cardinal Mazarin. " O my poor soul !" 
he exclaims, in piteous tones, " what will become of 
thee ? Whither art thou going ?" Voltaire's death- 
chamber, as you know, was a scene of horror. 
Paine's was both fearful and disgusting. Eandolph's 
dying experience was written in the thrice repeated 
word, "remorse! remorse! remorse!" a word which 
expresses more of mental agony than any other known 
to man. Hobbes, trembling with apprehension, said : 
" I am about to take a leap in the dark." David W. 
Bell cried, "01 must be damned ! I am damned ! 
damned to all eternity !" A man named Chaloner 
died cursing, and crying, " O torture, torture, torture ! 
O torture, torture!" Another, named Eogers, ex- 
claimed, " I have had a little pleasure, but now I 
must have hell for evermore. I must to hell, I must 
to hell ! I must to the furnace of hell for millions and 
millions of ages !" 



HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 141 

But enough of these sad pictures. They sicken m j 
heart, and my pen trembles as I think that the fair 
youth who reads these pages may, by neglecting his 
soul, pass through such agonies to an eternal prison. 
" Forbid it, gracious Eedeemer !" is the prayer which 
rises to my lips. Prevent it, precious youth, by knock- 
ing at the wicket gate w^hich opens into the pleasant 
path of faith in the Son of God ! 

Do this, and then O how delightful it will be to die 
when the appointed hour strikes ! A life of faith leads 
to the verge of heaven, as a good man's death-chamber 
has been truly called. To stimulate you to begin a 
Christian life now, let me sketch a few^ righteous souls 
engaged in victorious combat with the grim warrior 
of the " white horse." 

When Mrs. Hamlin, a missionary in Turkey, was 
on her death-bed, her physical sufferings were intense. 
But amid all her agonies she said she had "perfect 
peace," and her one desire was " to reach her rest." 
Toward the last her pain of body ceased. An expres- 
sion of ineffable peace settled on her features, and the 
tones of her voice, as she bade farewell to her husband, 
were tremulous with the tenderness of overflowing 
affection. At length she sunk quietly away as one 



142 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

falletli into a sweet slumber. Thinking she Wv^s 
dead, her husband exclaimed, "My Henrietta! my 
Henrietta !" 

She opened her eyes, and looking earnestly around, 
asked, " What child is this ? Is it little Carrie V 

" No, my dear," replied her husband, " there is no 
child here !" 

*'Yes," she rejoined, "it is little Carrie, and the 
room is full of children." 

Then looking upward, she breathed her joyous 
spirit into the arms of the angels whose presence her 
half unvailed spirit had just before mistaken for beau- 
tiful children. Can the records of unrenewed mind 
furnish one example of such a beautiful death as this ? 
I answer emphatically, not one! Such a death is 
impossible to an unregenerate mind. 

Here is another case. It is cited by Dr. Moore. 
He stood by a dying believer, and asked, " Are you 



ni 



pam 



?" 



" It is delightful," was the reply. 

Another of his patients was so overpowered with 
the love of God that he died saying, " This is life — 
this is heaven. God is life— I need no faith, I have 
the promise !" 



HOW TO WIN VICTOEY IN DEATH. 143 

Montmorency, constable of France, died on the 
field of battle. "Die like a good Christian," said 
some of the members of his staif as they soothed his 
last moments. 

" Gentlemen and fellow-soldiers," he replied, " I 
thank you for your concern about me, but the man 
who has endeavored to live well for fourscore years, 
can never have to seek now how to die well for a 
quarter of an hour. But my having endeavored to 
live well is not the ground of my dependence. No, 
my sole dependence is on Jesus Christ !" 

With such noble words as these upon his lips the 
pious soldier ascended from the field of death to the 
mansions of eternal life. 

Here is still another case. A gentleman named 
GoLDiNG was enjoying spiritual raptures as he was 
shaking off the garment of mortality. A friend who 
stood by with wonder in his looks, said : 

" You seem to enjoy foretastes of heaven!" 

" O," replied the dying saint, " this is no longer a 
foretaste, this is heaven ! I not only feel the climate, 
but I breathe the fine ambrosial air of heaven, and 
shall soon enjoy the company !" 

Shortly after his face wore an aspect of ineffable 



144 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

joy, and crying, " Glory ! Glory ! Glory !" he ascend- 
ed to nestle in the breast of Jesus forever. 

And here is yet one more example. An aged man, 
after a long and very painful sickness, found himself 
dying. Taking his friendly watcher by the hand, he 
looked into his face with an expression beautiful as a 
seraph's smile, and said : 

" I have just been down to the bank of Jordan to see 
how the water is. Methought as I stood there, old 
John Bunyan came, and tapping me on the shoulder, 
said, ' The water is deep or shallow in proportion as 
faith is in exercise.'" 

Shortly after he whispered, " Come, Lord Jesus !" 
and closing his eyes slept sweetly in the Lord. 

His faith was strong, and he found the waters 
shallow, as all do who have faith : 

*' For, like a happy infant, Faith 
Can play among the graves." 

These illustrations of the power of piety to give 
victory in death might be multiplied indefinitely. It 
is one of the peculiar results of the Christian life to 
teach its possessors to " die well." Not that every 
Christian dies equally triumphant, for there are de- 



HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 145 

grees of triumph among dying believers, just as there 
are degrees of misery among dying sinners. But mark 
this, thou who must conquer or be conquered in death : 
the most timid Christian death is infinitely more desir- 
able than the boldest death possible to a sinner ; for the 
former is succeeded by immortal felicity, the latter 
by immortal misery. 

Would you then escape the death of the wicked *? 
Would you avoid the sudden plunge into dananation 
which awaits the sinner who dies in unconsciousness ? 
Be pious ! Would you be saved from the terror which 
thrills the spirit of the bold sinner, when death sudden- 
ly leads him to the lake of fire 1 Be pious ! Would 
you be spared the dying agony of the conscience- 
stricken sinner ? Be pious ! Would you die peacefully, 
triumphantly ? Be pious ! Enter the way of peace ; 
seek pardon ; consecrate your young life to God ; live 
a life of faith in the Son of God ! Then, when the 
the summons to die falls upon your ears, joy will 
swell your sanctified heart, and you will reply with 
the poet : 

" Lo ! I come exultingly : 
What a trmmpli 'tis to die ! 
All tlie bands of mortal life, 
All the struggle, all the strife, 

10 



146 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

Death, and death's ignoble bed, 
Underneath my feet I tread. 

"Lo! I see, exultingly, 
Visions bursting from the sky : 
Glowing light from paradise 
Gleams upon my ravish' d eyes ; 
Odors, sweeter than the spring, 
Wafting zephyrs gently bring. 

' Hark ! the music steals along, 
Welcome, sweet, of angel-song ; 
Now my spirit joyously 
Mounts aloft, from bondage free. 
Upward rising, high and higher. 
Light as flame of heavenly fire. 

" Through the open gates of light. 
Streaming glory fills my sight ; 
I on blissful myriads gaze — 
Stars of life! Seraphic blaze ! 
Swells my heart, my loosen' d tongue 
Warbles an immortal song." 

Dying thus you will realize . that " godliness is 
profitable" even in death, which it transforms into a 
pleasant path and a peaceful way. 



LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE. 147 



CHAPTEE Vin. 

LIEE BEYOND THE GEAYE. 

After a week of storms I have not unfrequently 
looked on the noble bay into which the beautiful 
Hudson pours its abundant waters. Innumerable 
vessels of all sizes, from the graceful yacht to the 
stately ship, have met and charmed my eye. With 
their white sails all set to catch the favoring breeze, 
they have glided majestically as a flock of swans 
across the sunlit waves toward the great ocean be- 
yond. " Those vessels," I have said, musingly, " are 
all alike outward bound. Each is steering for her 
destined port. But how opposite will be their fates. 
Some will outride every gale, escape every treacher- 
ous breaker, and proudly enter port; while others, 
dashed to pieces by the furious weaves, or broken on 
pitiless rocks, will be most miserably wrecked." 

And this is an image of the fates of men. When 
life is young, and fresh, and new, like the ships on 



148 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

the bay, they all glide on sunlit waters, sheltered by 
parental arms, and bound on a perilous voyage to 
that unknown sea, Eternity, But how diverse their 
destinies! Some, like prosperous voyagers, will 
reach the happy port and float on " seas of heavenly 
rest" forever. But many, alas! how many, will 
make shipwreck of life, and drift forever amid end- 
less stofms and darkness on seas of dark despair. 
One of these opposite destinies awaits them all, for 
there is no middle state for man in eternity. Per- 
fect rest or absolute imrest, everlasting triumph or 
everlasting despair, heaven or hell, awaits every liv- 
ing soul at the end of the earthly life. The wicked 
" shall go away into everlasting ^punishment : but the 
righteous into life eternaV 

God has made your soul immortal, a "picture of 
his own eternity." Indestructibility is stamped upon 
it. It is capable, therefore, of enjoying " everlasting 
life ;" of suffering " everlasting punishment." But it 
cannot be destroyed. Its destiny is to be, to think, 
to ^Q^^ forever ! 

Forever! Did you ever look into that yawnmg 
depth making an attempt to sound it ? Forever ! 
Did you ever try to run a measuring line along the 



LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE. 149 

limitless ages contained in this mighty term '? If so 
you know what it is to stagger on the brink of a 
bottomless abyss, to stand appalled in presence of 
boundless duration. Yet, since you must exist /or- 
ever^ permit me to enlarge your conceptions of this 
great idea by an illustration. 

Suppose your Creator were to commission some 
tiny insect to remove the matter of this great globe 
to the m.ost distant star in immensity. It can carry 
for a load only an atom so small as to be impercepti- 
ble to the eye. Millions of years are required for the 
performance of a- single journey. It commences its 
task upon the leaf of a delicate plant. With its invisi- 
ble load it departs, deposits it, and after millions of 
years returns for a second atom. What numberless 
ages would pass before that single leaf would be 
carried away! What untold periods before the 
whole plant would be gone ! What vast cycles 
would elapse before a tree, a forest, a hill, a mount- 
ain would disappear! The strongest imagination 
staggers at the thought of the ages which would pass 
ere the last particle of the globe would be removed. 
Yet even then your imperishable spirit would be but 
in the infancy of its existence ! Amazing thought ! 



150 PLEASAKT PATHWAYS. 

" Immortal ! Ages past, yet notMng gone I 
Morn without eve, a race without a goal ! 
Unshorten'd by progression infinite I 
Futurity forever future I life 
Beginning still where computation ends." 

This immortality is an attribute of your nature, 
and invests you with a grandeur which no earth-born 
greatness can equal; it* stamps you with a value 
which defies computation; it imparts to your exist- 
ence an aspect of terrible solemnity ; it gives grave 
pertinency to the question of the great Teacher : 
"What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the 
whole world and lose his o^vn soulf and it justifies 
the inquiry of the poet : 

"Eound us, o'er us, is there aught 
Which can fill our highest thought ? 

Aught which may deserve to be 
With our noblest aims inwrought ? 

Yes, 'tis Immortahty." 

Since it is your destiny, immortal youth, to live 
forever, let me present you with a dim but faithful 
picture of life beyond the grave. Give me your 
hand! Let me lead you first to the brink of that 
perdition which will "move from beneath to meet 
you at your coming," if you continue in your present 



LIFE BEYOKD THE GRAVE. 151 

impenitent state until death. The spectacle niay be 
painful to contemplate, but would it not be infinitely 
more so to be cast into that " lake of fire V Look, 
then, that you may escape from it while escape is 
possible. 

A prosperous sinner, who acquired large wealth, 
lived sumptuously, and dressed fashionably, was hur- 
ried from his magnificent dwelling into eternity. 
There was nothing notable in his death. He died 
as most sinners die, unconscious of the wickedness 
of his self-indulgent life and of the fearful doom 
which awaited him beyond the tomb. But scarcely 
had he closed his eyes on this world before he lifted 
them up " in hell, being in torments, and seeth Abra- 
ham afar off and Lazarus in his bosom. And he 
cried and said, ' Father Abraham, have mercy on me 
and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his 
finger in water, and cool my tongue : for I am tor- 
mented in this flame.' " 

" But Abraham said, ' Son, remember that thou in 
thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likew^ise 
Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted and 
thou art tormented. And besides all this, between 
us and you there is a great gulf fixed : so that they 



152 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

which would pass from hence to you cannot, neither 
can they pass to us that would come from thence.' " 

These, as you know, are the words of Christ. He 
knew what was in heaven and hell, because he was 
Lord over both. In giving this awful account of the 
rich sinner's fate, he pushed the gate of perdition 
open a little space that men might look in and see 
the misery of lost souls. That rich man is a repre- 
sentative character. What he suffers all lost souls 
suffer, all finally impenitent souls will suffer, you will 
suffer if you die in your present state. Fix your 
eye, therefore, on him in his "place of torment." 
Study his agony closely as a picture of your own 
future woe unless you repent. 

"/ am tormented in this flame^"^ he cries. So fierce 
is his torment that to have the tip of his tongue 
touched by the wet finger of Lazarus seemed like a 
great favor. But even that trifling alleviation was 
refused as contrary to an unalterable law which 
formed an impassable " gulf" between his abode and 
the home of the redeemed. 

What was the nature of the fire in which he was 
tormented'? Was it material or mental] I cannot 
tell, God has elsewhere called it " a lake of fire 



LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE. 153 

hurning with hrimstone^'' and '-''fire that is never 
quenched,^'' Many good and wise men interpret these 
phrases literally. Others regard them as figurative, 
as teaching that the mental misery of lost souls is so 
intense that the exquisite pain which a man immersed 
in fire would suffer is the nearest representation that 
can be given of it. This is my own opinion. But 
how terrible must such anguish be! Look at that 
lost rich man again. See him writhing, weeping, 
tossing to and fro in the mysterious fire which burns 
without shedding one ray of light around his misera- 
ble abode! Hark how piteously he cries, "I am 
tormented in this flame!" Do you not shrink from 
tasting such woe'? Do you not feel that it is "a 
fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living 

Godr 

^^I am tormented in this flame.'''' The fuel on which 
that flame feeds is the sin of his past life. His rela- 
tions and obligations to God, wdth the ingratitude, the 
baseness, the folly, the selfishness, and the inexcusa- 
bleness of his iniquities, are all fearfully transparent 
to his glaring eyes. His conscience, long sinned 
against, now " spits fire in his face and fills him with 
shame and horror." It peoples the murky atmos- 



154 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

phere about him with ghostly images of his unre- 
pented sins ; it writes the half-forgotten record of his 
life in big fiery letters on the walls of his prison ; it 
shouts the curses of the law in his ears ; it reproaches 
him for his folly ; it points him to the awful frown of 
his wronged, insulted, but now avenging Creator. 
Thus his conscience begets thoughts which float 
around him as a sea of unquenchable fire. Do 
you wonder that he cries, "I am tormented in 
this flame f 

When a guilty conscience is awakened this side the 
grave its pangs are like "the arrows of the Almighty," 
the " poison whereof drmketh up the spirit." What, 
then, must they be in a lost soul ? Let me give you 
a few examples of these pangs, as felt by living men, 
arising not from a career of peculiar infamy, but 
from acts which are too often regarded as trifling 
and venial. 

When Sir Walter Scott was at school there was 
a boy in his class who always kept at the top. Scott 
long tried in vain to displace him. One day he 
noticed that, when questioned, this boy always kept 
his fingers fumbling about a particular button on his 
vest. Scott contrived to cut it ofi*, and, as he expected. 



LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE. 155 

the next time the boy was questioned he missed both 
the button and his lesson. Scott got his place, but, as 
he afterward confessed, the sight of that hoy akvays 
smote him, and he never ceased to wish that this un- 
kind act had not been done. 

A similar feelmg of pain was once admitted by a 
sick youth, who, calling his father to his bed-side, 
said : 

" Three years ago I told you a falsehood. It has 
given me many sleepless hours, I want to ask your 
forgiveness." 

The pangs of an awakened conscience were very 
severe in the case of the Eev. Charles Simeon 
while he was under conviction of sin. His life had 
always been severely moral, yet, when " he saw the 
numberless iniquities of his former life, so greatly 
was his mind oppressed by them, that he frequently 
looJced upon the dogs with envy, wishing, if it were 
possible, that he could be blessed with their mortality, 
and they be cursed with his immortality!" 

A more striking case was that of an impenitent 
man who fell into a river and was so far drowned as 
to be insensible for some time. " What were your 
feelings when you fell into the water?" a friend in- 



156 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

quired after he was restored to consciousness. He 
made this memorable reply : 

" My feelings were the most horrible you can con- 
ceive. All the sins I ever committed rushed at 
once into my mind, and conscience portrayed the 
whole to me. I beheld the flames of hell kindled 
before me." 

In some persons of extreme wickedness these pains 
of mind have grown so intense that the guilty suf- 
ferers have voluntarily confessed their crimes, after 
having denied them, on the scaffold and on the rack. 
" They have implored the mercy of a violent death as 
more tolerable than the agony of their guilty souls." 
Here is an illustration in point. 

Two men were traveling in a retired part of the 
country, when one suddenly struck the other and 
slew him. Having robbed the body he concealed it 
and fled. Changing his name, the guilty man took up 
his abode in a quiet village, and having established 
himself in business, became a highly respected man 
and a magistrate. Many years rolled away, and he 
lived on unsuspected of crime. But one day, while 
trying a man charged with murder, his conscience, 
which for thirty years had been lashing him with 



LIFE BEYOKD THE GRAVE. 157 

cords of burning iron, asserted all its power. He 
could endure his concealed agony no longer. Step- 
ping from the bench of the magistrate to the dock of 
the prisoner, he confessed his crime, and said : 

" I cannot feel relief from the agonies of an awaken- 
ed conscience, but bj requiring that justice be done 
to me in the most public manner." 

I have quoted these examples of the power of con- 
science to inflict the severest pain in this life, that you 
may see how such torment as the rich man suifered 
in hell may arise from the mind itself. A guilty con- 
science is itself a hell — a crater of flame kindled by 
the breath of an angry God — furnished with all the 
means of fiercest torment. A man's sins are the fuel 
which feeds the scorching flame. Imagination and 
memory are the remorseless tormentors ever toiling 
at the mouth of the sufferer's hell, and heaping his 
iniquities upon the undying fire. This is what Milton 
meant when he made his lost archangel say : 

*' Me miserable ! Which, way shall I fly 
Infinite wrath and infinite despair ? 
Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; 
And in the lowest deep a lower deep, 
Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, 
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven." 



158 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

See you not, impenitent youth, in this feature of 
your moral nature, how you may be made a sad part- 
ner in that rich man's torment ? If Sir Walter Scott 
was smitten with pain, through a series of years, by 
the recollection of a boyish act of injustice ; if the sick 
youth was visited by sleepless hours during three years 
for a single falsehood ; if the moral Mr. Simeon wished 
himself a dog when his iniquities met him; if, for 
more marked offenses, men have suffered beyond their 
powers of endurance in the flesh, what is there to save 
you from torment in the world beyond the grave, when 
your conscience shall be awakened by the hand-writing 
on the wall ? When driven from the noise and occupa- 
tions of this busy life ; when the light of eternity shines 
unobstructedly on your naked spirit; when a resurrec- 
tion of every buried act of sin shall take place in your 
memory ; when a clear consciousness of the infinite 
love of God, which you have despised, shall awake 
within you; when a full comprehension of all you 
have been, and all you ought to have been, shall pos- 
sess you ; when the startling conviction that you are 
utterly, hopelessly, and eternally lost, arises within 
you ; then, O then, will you not taste the rich man's 
anguish, and cry, " I am tormented in this flame 1" 



LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE. 159 

In addition to these gnawings of guilt, lost souls 
suffer from their intercourse with each other. The 
rich man dreaded the coming of his brothers to his 
place of torment, doubtless, because he shrunk from 
their reproaches. Hell is an association of wicked 
souls. Lost angels and ruined men are there linked 
in one vast society. What a thought ! What profane 
blasphemies, what horrible curses, what mutual re- 
proaches, what malignant speeches, must forever 
mingle with that " weeping, wailing, and gnashing of 
teeth " which characterizes them all ! This fact alone 
makes my soul hasten far from the road to hell. To 
be the forced companion of all the blasphemers, in- 
fidels, thieves, murderers, liars, riotous and ungodly 
wretches who have cursed the world with their pres- 
ence, is of itself sufficient to call forth an earnest pur- 
pose to avoid their abode. " O my soul, come not thou 
into their secret ; unto their assembly mine honor be 
not thou united !" 

Besides all this the rich man was the spectator of 
the bliss of heaven. He saw " Abraham afar off and 
Lazarus in his bosom." You are thus taught that 
lost souls are tormented by the sight of the heaven 
they have rejected. They can lift up their eyes from 



160 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

afar and behold the blissfiil land, the mansions, the 
innumerable multitude of the redeemed walking in 
white, the throne of God and the Lamb, only to be 
reminded that they too might have been inheritors of 
that bliss, but for their own obstinate rejection of the 
love which stooped even to the humiliation of death 
to save them. And ever as they look on the glorious 
brow of the adorable Redeemer, they shall hear a 
voice saying, " Ye would not come unto me that ye 
might have life." And when the echoes of the song 
of the saints floating across the impassable gulf shall 
fall upon their ears, saying, "Blessing, and honor, and 
glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the 
throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever," they 
shall writhe with renewed torture. The "for ever 
and ever" in that song shall ring as the knell of 
eternal death, and thrill the wretched multitude anew, 
by reminding them that there is to be no end to their 
sufferings. " The smoke of their torment ascendeth 
up for ever and ever ; and they have no rest day nor 
night,'''' 

Once only in their weary life wall the monotony of 
their woe be broken. On an appointed day the blast 
of an archangel's trump will summon them to the bar 



LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE. 161 

of the Ancient of Days, and to a reunion with their 
sin-defiled bodies. There, in presence of an assem- 
bled universe, they shall be "judged according to 
their works ;" there they shall be condemned ; there 
a reluctant confession of the justice of their doom 
shall be wrung from their lips ; there, bowing the 
knee before the Lamb, whose atonement in their 
earthly lifetime they rejected, they shall publicly ac- 
knowledge the justice of God in their condemnation ; 
and there, covered with " shame and everlasting con- 
tempt," they shall hear the once Crucified pronounce 
their sentence, saying, " Depart from me ye cursed 
into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his 
angels." They shall then be " cast into the lake of 
fire" to suffer the bitter pains of the "second death," 
without mitigation or hope of relief for ever and ever. 
Such is the life of lost souls according to Holy 
Scripture. Such will be your life beyond the grave, 
dear impenitent youth, unless you become a believer 
in Christ. Can you bear the thought of thus " drinlC' 
ing of the wine of the wrath of GodV Do you not 
shudder at the bare idea of being thus " tormented" 
in the " presence of the holy angels, and in the pres- 
ence of the Lambf Are the "pleasures of sin" 
11 



162 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

which are but for a season, worth such a tremendous 
price? You would not leap into a den of hungry 
lions or hissing serpents, neither would you cast your- 
self into a fiery furnace ; why, O why, then, will you 
walk the road which leads to the den of devils and 
lost souls ? to the lake of fire which is as unquench- 
able as the life of your immortal spirit? O, pity 
yourself, and turn away, I beseech you, turn from the 
broad way, saying : 

" Nothing is worth a thought beneath, 
But how I may escape the death 

That never, never dies ! 
How make mine own election sure ; 
And when I fail on earth, secure 

A mansion in the skies." 

Life, life, eternal life ! How cheering these 
words sound after the dreary voices from hell's ever- 
lasting prisoners to which we have been listening ! 
Sadly has my mind traversed the scenes my pen has 
just pictured. Again and again my excited sympa- 
thies have bid me leave the picture unfinished, but 
the conviction that this view of the dark side of the 
life beyond the gi ■ <. might move some precious 
youth to shun it, he. . estrained me. But having 
drawn it, I turn to the l light side of that life with 



LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE. 163 

the feelings of one passing from a charnel-house into 
the pure atmosphere of a bright summer morning. 
Give me your hand again, my reader. Let me lead 
you from the brink of perdition to the glorious land 
of Beulah. Let us stand beneath the trees of that 
pleasant realm, and while breathing its clear, balmy 
air, let us behold the children of piety as, emerging 
from the river of death, they ascend the shining path 
beyond it to the celestial city. 

I have already shown you how believers die. 
Jesus has drawn aside the vail which hides the 
spiritual world from mortal observation sufficiently 
to let us see how, after escaping from their " earthly 
house," they ascend to heaven. Read ! " And it 
came to pass that the beggar died, and ivas carried by 
the angels into Abraham's bosom 1" 

Carried by the angels ! I thank thee, Jesus, for 
that revealing. It shows me how all believers reach 
their home, for surely Lazarus was not taken thither 
by any unusual method. Carried by angels ! De- 
lightful mode of transit! Borne, O how rejoicingly 
and lovingly ! in the strong arms of " shining ones," the 
freed believer is in an ecstasy of unspeakable delight. 
Not a fear stirs the perfect calm which pervades his 



164 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

sprinkled conscience. Too happy to speak to his 
heavenly attendants, he looks steadfastly on the doors 
of his " Father's house." One thought fills his swell- 
ing soul : " I am saved ! I am saved ! I have fought 
the good fight, I have finished my course. Henceforth 
there is a crown laid up for me. O halleluiah ! 
halleluiah to God and the lamb for ever !" 

Swimming in this delicious consciousness as in a 
sea of bliss, he finds himself in the celestial city, and 
is led through the long lines of shining ranks toward 
the presence of '' our God which sitteth upon the 
throne" and "of the Lamb." As the beatific spectacle 
gradually unfolds its glory to his unaccustomed eye, 
he may say to himself, 

" And is tMs heaven ? And am I here ? 

How short the road ! How swift the flight ! 
I am all life, all eye, all ear ; 

Jesus is here, my soul's delight." 

He is before the throne. Inefiable love beams upon 
him from the glorious face of his Eedeemer. There 
he is " clothed in white raiment," a palm is placed in 
his hands, Jesus " confesses " him " before his father 
and before his angels," gives him a " crown of life," 
presents him with the '-' mansion " prepared for him, 



li 



LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE. 165 

and joins him to the " great multitude which no man 
could number." Thus introduced to the life of 
heaven, he lifts up his voice and swells the everlasting 
song, saying, " Salvation to our God w^hich sitteth 
upon the throne, and unto the Lamb !" 

Who can conceive the unspeakable rapture of a 
saved soul during these first moments of his heavenly 
life ! There is the consciousness of being actually 
saved, of dangers all escaped, of battles all fought, 
and victory won ; of temptations, doubts, fears, cross- 
es, trials, infirmities, cares, all left behind with the 
earthly house ; there is the overwhelming gratitude, 
the adoring, subduing, clinging, burning love for his 
Saviour which swells in his soul, and bursts from it, 
like gushing springs, in songs of praise, as he feels 
through all the pulsations of his being the power of 
the thought, " I owe all this to Jesus !" This rapture 
is heightened by a profound sense of personal un- 
worthiness which begets the wonder why he died for 
me. While, to crown the whole, comes in the idea 
of perpetuity. " This bliss is to endure forever !" his 
enraptured soul will say, and then, with immeasurable 
tides of blissful feeling sweeping through his nature, 
he will cast his crown at the Saviour's feet and sing : 



166 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

" Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our 
sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and 
priests unto God and his Father ; to him be glory and 
dominion for ever and ever." 

I love to think of a soul's first hour in heaven ; for 
it seems to me that almost an eternity of bliss is 
included in its exquisite experiences. If all its sub- 
sequent life were to be spent with less of thrilling 
delight, that hour would atone for all the sufferings 
of its earthly past, and, as a recollection, be a star of 
beauty shedding joy forever upon its path. But, 
O delightful thought ! the capacities of saved souls are 
destined to be endlessly developed, and to drink 
in ever-increasing draughts of bliss from the inex- 
haustible fullness of the blessed God. Its first hour 
in heaven is therefore only a prelude to a life of im- 
mortal delights. 

The precise maimer in which saved souls will spend 
their heavenly life is not revealed. What their duties 
will be, by what ministries of love their powers will 
be tasked, by w^hat means their intellectual and moral 
progress will be promoted, the special relations they 
will sustain to one another, and how they will be 
distributed in the heavenly kingdom, are problems 



LIFE BEYOKD THE GKAVE. 167 

which it has not pleased God to solve for us who 
dwell in houses of claj. Nor will I speculate upon 
them, because enough of the heavenly life is revealed 
to make it an object of supreme desire. 

In the heavenly life every cause of painful feeling 
will be absent. Read the beautiful statement of the 
Spirit respecting saved souls : " God shall wipe away 
all tears from their eyes ; and there shall he no more 
death^ neither sorrow nor crying^ neither shall there he 
any more pain.^^ JVo more pain, either of mind or 
hody, to all eternity ! What a stupendous conso- 
lation ! 

On the other hand there is to be fullness of joy for 
evermore. God and the Lamb will anticipate and 
satisfy every want of their nature. Every intellect- 
ual aspiration will be gratified in the study of God's 
infinite being and productions, for they " shall see 
Him as He is." Every desire of the affections shall 
be met with delightful response, for to them shall be 
unfolded the meaning of that unfathomed truth, 
" God is love." Every shape of perfect beauty shall 
charm the eye, and every sound of richest melody 
shall delight the ear. Read the gorgeous imagery 
by which the Revelator vainly sought to convey his 



168 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

impressions of the perfect purity and perfect bliss 
which he beheld in his inspired visions. Having read 
it, then consider his authoritative assertion : " It 

DOTH NOT YET APPEAR WHAT WE SHALL BE !" After 

all God has revealed of heaven, the heights of its 
joys have never been scaled, the depths of its delights 
have never been fathomed. Eye hath not seen it ; 
ear hath not heard it; nor hath human mmd con- 
ceived it. It must be enjoyed to be understood. 
Truly did the poet sing : 

" "We speak of tlie realms of the bless' d, 
Of that country so bright and so fair ; 

And oft are its glories confess' d, 
But what must it be ^o he there ? 

" We speak of its pathways of gold, 
Of its walls deck'd with jewels so rare, 

Of its wond-ers and pleasures untold — 
But what must it be to le tJiere f " 

Such, immortal youth, is life beyond the grave. 
To the impenitent who do not obey the truth it is 
" i7idig nation, wrath, tribulation, and anguish.'^'' To 
those who believe in the Saviour it is honor, glory, and 
eternal felicity. Which of these vast extremes it will 
be to you depends on yourself. It is the will of 
Him "who loved you and gave himself for you," 



LIFE BEYON'D THE GRAVE. 169 

that you should inherit the latter. But he leaves you 
free to make your own choice. As you sow so shall 
you reap. Sow to the flesh, remain impenitent, seek 
your chief good in the earthly, and you must reap the 
torment which fell to the lot of the rich man. Sow 
to the Spirit by repentance, faith, love, and obedi- 
ence, and you shall reap the unimaginable bliss of 
heaven. To sow to the flesh and expect to reap 
eternal life, is as foolish as it would be to expect to 
gather a crop of figs from the sowing of thistle-seed. 
If you sow the wind you must reap the whirlwind. 

Which will you do ] I advise, yea, I entreat you 
to sow to the Spirit, for I know you cannot endure to 
lie down in everlasting burnings. I know you must 
desire your own happiness in eternity. Flee, then, 
from the broad road in which you are now walking. 
It leads to death, Eush from it as you would 
from the railway track if you saw the train dashing 
upon you. By all your dread of pain, by all your 
love of happiness, forsake it ! By the value of your 
immortal soul, by the love which gave the " only 
begotten" for your salvation, by the love of Him who 
laid down his life for you, I adjure you, forsake the 
path which leadeth unto death, and enter ' the way 



170 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

which leadeth unto life. And what thou doest, do 
quickly, for " the time is short." 

" There is a death whose pang 

Outlasts the fleeting breath ; 
O what eternal horrors hang 

Around the second death ! 

*' Thou God of truth and grace ! 

Teach me that death to shun ; 
Lest I be banished from thy face, 

For evermore undone." 



I fhay thee have me excused. 171 



i 



CHAPTEE IX. 

I PEAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 

In his beautiful parable of the great supper, the 
divine Teacher held a mirror before the hearts of 
impenitent men who are intellectually convinced of 
their duty, in which is reflected the grand reason why 
they do not turn to Him. The invited guests to that 
supper are described as sending in various excuses. 
One wished to feast his eyes on a newly-purchased 
piece of ground ; another wanted to put a recently- 
bought yoke of oxen to the test ; a third pleaded the 
privileges of a bridegroom. These excuses are so 
transparently frivolous that no reflecting reader can 
fail to see that want of inclination was the true rea- 
son why these persons declined to be guests at that 
supper. Had either of them possessed a spark of 
desire to be present, the alleged difficulties would 
either not have suggested themselves, or, being sug- 
gested, would have been pushed aside as mere pebbles 
from their pathway. 



172 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

And is not want of inclination also tlie parent of 
your excuses for neglecting your salvation, and the 
grand reason why you stay away from Christ, my 
dear young reader? Your sober judgment is con- 
vinced that your happiness, your safety, and your 
duty all point to the path of piety. Look, then, into 
the secret workings of your heart; be true to your- 
self; drag your skulking motives from behind your 
array of excuses into broad daylight, and see if an 
absolute disinclination to the service of Christ is not 
the force that holds you back from him? Study 
yourself, and see if your inclinations are not all run- 
ning in the channels of worldliness and self-gratifica- 
tion? Tell me now honestly, frankly, but for your 
disinclination to religious duty would not all the 
excuses which drop so trippingly from your tongue 
become lighter than the breath with which you utter 
them ? 

It may be, however, that the deceitfiilness of sin so 
obscures this disinclination that it is not clearly visi- 
ble as yet to your self-inspective eye. If this is so, 
then your excuses may be mixed with sincerity. They 
may bear with more or less weight upon your voli- 
tions, and it may benefit you to see them placed in 



\ 



I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 173 

the scales of truth. Will you permit me to weigh 
some of them therein ? 

Perhaps you shrink from the prospective duties of a 
religious life. You are unprepared for the sacrifices 
it involves, for its probable requirements at your 
hands, and therefore you say, "I pray thee have me 
excused." The following fact may embody the spirit 
of your excuse. 

A young man of prepossessing aspect, intelligence, 
and respectability, once visited my house as an in- 
quirer after Christ. He was the subject of powerful 
spiritual awakening, and was, so far as I could judge, 
entirely sincere. I did my best to lead him to Christ, 
but he found no peace for several weeks. I then con- 
cluded that some concealed difficulty stood between 
him and Jesus. Pressing him closely, I drew from 
him the confession that a conviction of his duty to 
preach the Gospel after becoming a Christian had 
sprung up in his heart. This was opposed to a dar- 
ling plan of life which he had marked out for himself, 
and which he could not persuade himself to abandon. 
O how I pleaded with that noble youth to yield to his 
conviction and to present himself unreservedly to the 
Saviour ! But I failed. The pride of his heart was 



174 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

too strong, too stubborn, to be subdued even by my 
great Master, and the young man ceased to be a 
visitor at my study. He remained a sinner; an 
amiable, moral, attractive young man, but impeni- 
tent and disobedient to God. Mark the result! 
Within two years a violent fever prostrated his 
manly form, beclouded his brilliant intellect, con- 
sumed the oil of his physical life, and sent his rebel- 
lious spirit unpardoned into the presence-chamber of 
Him to whose bidding he had replied, " I will not." 

Let this young man stand on the plains of life, 
like Lot's wife in her shroud of salt on the vale of 
Sodom, a warning to all who, like him, excuse them- 
selves from coming to Christ because of some unwel- 
come prospective duty. What if my reader, after 
being converted, will be called to speak of God's 
goodness, to visit the sick and the poor, to exhort, to 
preach the Gospel, to become a missionary, or to em- 
ploy his skillful fingers and fertile brain in acquiring 
money for the use of Christ? Does the certainty 
of such a call dissolve his obligations to become a 
Christian? Besides, who and what are you, precious 
youth, that you should count any labor a disgrace, or 
a burden even, which Christ can require at your 



I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 175 

hands 1 Are jou not his creature 1 Are you not so 
absolutely a pauper in his presence as to own nothing 
in the universe 1 Why, your very person belongs to 
him, and you are honored by any task, however 
lowly, which he may assign you. Place, then, the 
pride of your poor spoiled heart beneath his feet, and 
let him crush the foolish bubble. Tell him you count 
it greater honor to wash the feet of his meanest disci- 
ples than to continue in your sins. And remember 
that the seeming difficulties of religious duties will 
mostly vanish the moment you are converted. The 
Divine love shed abroad in your heart at that au- 
spicious moment will make all things easy. It will 
inspire motive, impart strength, and make all duties 
not only possible but pleasant. Away, then, with 
such excuses if you have cherished them. But if you 
will persist m hugging them to your heart, fail not to 
see your destiny mirrored in the end of that youth to 
whom an excuse of this class was the millstone which 
dragged him from the foot of the cross down to 
regions of endless despair. 

It may be that fear of the ridicule of your asso- 
ciates, of persecution from your personal friends or 
family connections^ or of some other evil which terri- 



176 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

fies your imagination, is your excuse. Admitting 
your sincerity, I beg to whisper a word or two in 
your ears by way of warning you against yielding to 
that cowardly emotion, fear. 

Fear is of all things the most to be feared. It 
never stimulated any man to noble deeds, never 
achieved a triumph. On the contrary, it chills the 
heart, paralyzes the arm, petrifies every manly as- 
piration, feeds like a cancer on a man's self-respect, 
and degrades him in the estimation of men. It were 
better to die the possessor of a fearless spirit than to 
live a coward. 

Among old England's heroic records there stands a 
dishonored name. One of her admirals, commanding 
a powerful fleet, met an enemy with a somewhat 
superior force. Doubting his competency to win a 
victory, and fearing defeat, that timid admiral refused 
a proffered opportunity to closely engage his foe. He 
did not fly. He did not decline to receive an attack. 
But he did not energetically throw himself on his ad- 
versary, who, equally timid, finally sailed away. This 
timidity, so unwonted in an English admiral, so un- 
like the heroic spirit of his race, roused a nation's 
wrath, and xIdmiral Bykg perished on the' scaffold ! 



I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 177 

In contrast with this timid man, see the brave com- 
mander of a little army sent against the best fortified 
city on the American continent. This city stood on 
the summit of a high, precipitous bank, which rose 
abruptly from a swiftly flowing river. Its ample 
fortifications were well manned and armed. Many 
bold men deemed its conquest impossible. But the 
daring spirit of a Wolfe conceived that everything 
is possible to him who has courage to attempt it with 
adequate means. He resolved to try. Landing his 
troops silently in the dead of night, he led them up, 
by paths that seemed impracticable, to some heights 
which commanded the city. When morning dawned 
his astonished adversary found himself compelled to 
fight or surrender. He fought and was conquered. 
The heroic Wolfe, while suffering mortal pain from a 
musket ball which had pierced his breast, heard a 
man shout, " They fly ! they fly !" 

" Who fly V he asked. 

'• The French !" replied the voice. 

"Thank God! I die happy," he cried, and closed 
his eyes in death. 

These illustrations of a fearful and a heroic spirit 

may be regarded as representative facts. They 
12 



178 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

should teach you to listen to the courageous rather 
than to the timid instincts of your nature in consider- 
ing the difficulties which may confront you as you 
enter on a religious life. If you are governed by fear 
of persecution, of sacrifices, of trials, or of your own 
powers of perseverance, like Admiral Byng, you will 
meet mth failure, disgrace, and death. If, like the 
undaunted Wolfe, you look defiantly at difficulties 
and resolve to conquer them, you will, like him, win 
victory and honorable renown. But with this signifi- 
cant difierence : Byng's failure and Wolfe's factory 
reached only to the human and the mortal. If you 
fail you lose yourself and heaven; if you try and 
conquer you win immortal honor, with unmeasured, 
unending bliss. 

Will you, then, refrain from seeking the Christian 
life through coward fear ? Shall frowns, harsh words, 
cynical sneers, and apprehended trials of feeling 
frighten you from the gateway of the pleasant life? 
Are such fears manly ? Are they worthy of your 
high capacities'? Rather, do you not despise your- 
self for submitting, like a crouching slave, to their 
dictation ? Rise, then, my young friend ! Assert the 
dignity of your manhood ! Listen to your soul's 



I 



I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 179 

heroic voices. In the strife of the spiritual battle- 
field, be a Wolfe in daring, and you shall become a 
saint by winning the victory. 

The puny rain-drop assaults the sturdy granite. 
Gliding into a slight fracture it invites the aid of 
frost and heat until, by expanding, it splits the rock 
asunder. In like maimer do daring souls subdue 
mountains of opposition. In fact, opposition grap- 
pled is half overcome, and few Christians have found 
the actual trials of their early spiritual career half as 
terrible as their anticipations painted them. Even 
that m.ost dreaded evil, persecution from our dearest 
friends, is usually found to lose half its fierceness 
when met in the spirit of meek decision. If you 
have an impenitent and persecuting father or 
m^other, whose dreaded frowns keep you from 
coming to Christ, the following fact may encourage 
you. 

" If you go again to hear such preachers I will turn 
you out of doors, sir !" said a stern father, one day, 
to his son who had become awakened under the 
preaching of an evangelical minister. 

The young man trembled, for he knew his father 
was capable, if roused, of becoming a man of iron. 



180 PLEASANT PATHWAYS* 

Yet so powerful were his convictions that he was led, 
in spite of his fears, to seek Christ in the prohibited 
church. A singular scene occurred there. The troub- 
led manner of the youth arrested the eye of the preach- 
er, and turning to a member of his Church he said : 

" Brother ! do you repent of coming to Christ ?" 

" No, sir," replied the man firmly, " I never was 
happy till I came. I only repent that I did not come 
to him sooner." 

The minister then turned to a venerable father in 
his Church, and said : " Brother, do you repent of 
coming to Christ '?" 

" No, sir," the old man replied, " I have known the 
Lord from my youth upward." 

The preacher now fixed his eye on the young man, 
and in tones of great tenderness said : 

" Young man, are you willing to come to Christ V 

Finding himself thus made the object of universal 
attention, the young man bowed his head. At length, 
encouraged by the whispers of a Christian brother, he 
arose and said in a voice tremulous with emotion : 

" Yes, sir ?" 

" But when T' asked the minister very solemnly. 

^^ Now^ sir!" replied the young man, mth a firm- 



I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 181 

ness of tone that showed the irrevocable decision 
which his soul had made. 

Having taken this stand he was afraid to meet his 
father. With a bursting heart he told the minister 
that the purpose he had formed made him homeless. 
" Fear not," the good man replied, soothingly ; " I 
will write your father a letter ; perhaps the spirit of 
God will lead him to a better mind." 

The letter was wi-itten and sent. It calmed the 
tempest in the father's soul. He tolerated his son's 
presence. He took his wife and went to hear the 
Gospel for himself. It subdued him. It converted 
his wife also, and that young man, instead of becom- 
ing homeless, found his home more loving and bliss- 
ful than it had ever been before. The cloud which 
lowered so terribly over him was big, not with 
storms of rage, but with dew-drops of sweetest 
blessing. 

Here is another fact to the same point. A young 
lady being powerfully awakened, took her seat with a 
band of inquiring souls as a seeker of religion. The 
next day her betrothed met her and said : 

"Well, Mary, I understand you have become a 
Methodist." 



182 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

"No," she replied, "I am not a Methodist, but I 
am endeavoring to become a Christian." 

" Well," said her intended, speaking in a pert tone, 
"if you are going to be a Methodist it is time for 
you and me to part." 

" Very well," rejoined the lady with great firmness, 
"just as you please ; good evenmg, sir !" and bowing 
gracefully to him, she walked to church. There she 
again took her seat with other penitent souls ; and 
there the presence of a pardoning God filled her 
heart, and amply compensated her for the sacrifice 
she had made. But how great was her joy, on rising 
from her knees, to see her betrothed kneeling humbly 
at the altar. Her decision had startled him into 
concern for his own soul's welfare. By consenting 
to sacrifice her heart's most precious earthly affection, 
she gained the love of heaven and won back her 
earthly lover, not as she had surrendered him, but 
elevated into the highest style of man. 

It may be thus with your apprehended difficulties, 
dear reader. God is able to bring water from the 
rock to quench your thirst. He can command the 
waters of the river to stand up in heaps to give you 
passage. He can throw down the mightiest walls in 



I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 183 

leading you on to victory. Therefore fear not, young 
seeker after Christ. God, even the God you desire to 
know, speaks these words to thee: " Say to them that 
are of a fearful hearty Be strong^ fear not : behold 
your God will come loith vengeance^ even God with 
a recompense : He will come and save you !" 

It sometimes pleases God to let the rage of the 
wicked burn like a flame of fire around those who 
seek his face. In times of open persecution, to 
profess Christ was to invoke the pains and penalties 
of martyrdom, and not unfrequently did the new- 
born believer fuid his worst foes in his own house- 
hold. It m.ust have been a fearful trial indeed, for 
the child to hear himself denounced at a heathen or 
an inquisitorial tribunal by his own father, and to be 
condemned to death on the testimony of her who 
bore him. Such opposition as this you camiot suffer. 
It is not permitted in these happier times. But what 
if it did await you? Would you be justified in 
refusing to come to Christ, even if your parents were 
certain to drag you from the seat of the penitent to 
the pyre of martyrdom with their own hands ? Even 
in such a sad extremity of trial, would it not still be 
your duty to crush the fear of man in the dust, and 



184 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

boldly approach the cross, treading the path of blood 1 
Should you shrink from such a fiery trial, would not 
the voice of Christ justly reprove you, saymg : "He 
that loveth father or mother more than me is not 
worthy of me V 

How then can you dare to excuse yourself for 
staying away from Christ because of the compara- 
tively trifling opposition which frowns upon you? 
Ought you not to fear the anger of God rather than 
that of man 1 " i^^ar ye not me ? saith the Lord, 
Will ye not tremble at my presence which have 
placed tke sand for the bound of the sea, by a per- 
petual decree, that it camiot pass it : and though the 
waves toss themselves, yet can they not prevail ; 
though they roar yet can they not pass over it?" 
Consider this question, timid youth, and teach your 
fears wisdom by weighing well this further counsel of 
your neglected Saviour : " Fear not them that kill the 
hody^ hut are not able to kill the soul ; but rather fear 
him lohich^ after he hath killed^ hath power to cast 
into hell ; yea^ I say unto you^ fear him !" 

It may be that you are a son or daughter of mirth. 
You love gayety. Your language, if a young lady, is, 
^^ I can't give up my amusements. I belong to a 



I 



I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 185 

select circle of merry associates. We have delightful 
sociables, private balls, and we often make up a 
splendid party to the opera or theater. Besides, I 
am passionately fond of novel reading. I can't give 
up these pleasures, and therefore ' I pray thee have 
me excused.' " 

Perhaps the reader is a young man, and his plea 
is : " I belong to a club. Our meetings are occasions 
of rare jollity. We often take jaunts into the coun- 
try, at which we joke, we sing, we dance, we drink. 
Indeed, we keep up a constant round of pleasures, 
which I can't give up for the sake of religion, and 
therefore ' I pray thee have me excused.' " 

Possibly, however, a young man looks on these 
pages who makes no verbal plea. He dare not 
frame his excuse into words, but his will is bound to 
a life of sin by the chain of some criminal habit. 
Often, under the shadows of night, he creeps to some 
haunt of infamy, to indulge his excited passions in 
acts forbidden by God and by public sentiment. 
Though outwardly demure he is secretly a profligate, 
a gambler, a slave of her whose feet take hold of 
death. His darling vice controls his passions. He 
is a bird feeding greedily within the meshes of a 



186 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

fowler's net, and while he gives no verbal reason 
for his plea, he also says, "I pray thee have me 
excused." 

To these and all others who prefer their fleshly 
and worldly lusts to God, I commend the following 
fact : 

A lady was once talking eloquently m favor of 
theatrical performances. " They afford me three dis- 
tinct pleasures," she remarked ; " the pleasure of 
anticipation, the pleasure of beholding them, and the 
pleasure of reflecting upon them afterward." 

" Pardon me, madam," said a clergyman, who 
heard her remark, " but you have forgotten to name 
a fourth pleasure aflbrded by the theater." 

" Indeed, sir !" she replied, " what can that be V^ 

Looking solemnly at her the clergyman gravely 
said : " The pleasure of reflecting upon it in the hour 
of death!" 

The lady started as if a serpent had stung her. 
She felt that her favorite amusement would not afford 
material for agreeable reflection on a death-bed. 
With true wisdom she concluded that pleasures 
which would not bear to be reflected on in the hour 
of death were not fit to be indulged in during life, 



I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 187 

and acting upon this conviction, she exchanged the 
pleasures of sin for the richer delights of the pleasant 
way. Would that mj reader could be persuaded to 
imitate her example. 

I have read of monarchs who lost their kingdoms 
by abandoning themselves to the lusts of the flesh ; of 
men who to gratify their passion for gambling have 
beggared themselves, and, at least in legends, of 
others who, for greed of gold, ambition, or pleasure, 
have bargained their souls to Satan. In all such 
cases the folly of the parties is painfully preposterous. 
But is the folly of my reader less? They were 
foolish because they gave property, life, soul, for 
such paltry considerations. They sold the valuable 
for the valueless, the precious for the vile. Does not 
the reader do the same ? For trifling indulgences, 
for a few years of unsatisfying pleasures, for really 
less of this life than religion would give him, he 
Injects the smile of .God, the lofty enjoyments of 
Divine communion, and the felicities of eternal life. 
He sacrifices heaven at the shrine of earth ; he gives 
the infinite for the finite ; the eternal for the moment- 
ary and perishing. This is folly's climax. This. is a 
deed at which heaven itself is astonished, and in 



188 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

presence of which even God himself exclaims : 
" Be astonished, O ye heavens, at this, and be horribly ^ ' 
afraid; be ye very desolate, saith the Lord, for my 
people have committed two evils ; they have forsaken 
me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out 
cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water." 

God sometimes deals in a very summary manner 
with such as you, my pleasure-loving reader. Here 
is an example. 

A young lady of fifteen was deeply convicted. 
She resisted the Spirit and lost her religious feelings 
in the pursuits of worldly pleasure. When eighteen 
her convictions returned. They were more powerful 
than before. Her pastor urged her to decide for 
Christ, but to all his entreaties she replied : 

"I can't be a Christian nowy 

Speaking of this reply to a female friend, she said: 
" I would have yielded to my convictions, only I had 
engaged to attend a ball on the coming fourth of 
July." 

Disappointed girl ! On the day of that fatal ball 
she followed the corpse of her father to the tomb ! A 
few weeks later she too became the victim of death. 
She died without hope or feeling. She sold her soul 



I PKAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 189 

for a ball, but lost the paltry price, although she paid 
the terrible forfeit. 

If you are a candidate for the rewards of mammon, 
and excuse yourself because you wish to devote your- 
self to money-making, you are exposed to the same 
censures and dangers as the children of mirth. When 
you lift up your eyes in hell, and see heaven afar off, 
the thought, " I sold that infinite bliss for base gold," 
will torment your soul with inconceivable pain. Re- 
member, " Treasures of wickedness profit nothing ; 
but righteousness delivereth from death." 

It may be that none of these things lie at the basis 
of your excuse, but your heart whispers, "/ am afraid 
I shall not obtain religion if I seek it^ and then I shall 
he laughed at; or, if I should find it, I should not be 
able to hold out; and therefore I jpray thee have me 
excused P 

If, precious youth, you had to meet an unwilling- 
ness in God to save you, there would be some 
grounds for your fear. But mark ! God is seeking 
to save you. He wills your salvation. He is " not 
willing that any should perish, but that all should 
come to repentance,'''' Christ has died for you. The 
Holy Spirit convinces you of sin and strives to con- 



190 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

duct you to the cross. Millions, just such as you are, 
have sought and found mercy. God's faithfuhiess to 
his word of promise has never been broken. No, 
not m a single instance. The way to the Saviour is 
so straight and plain that even little children can find 
him. Your failure is therefore impossible if you are 
in earnest; for "whosoever will" may come and 
partake of the water of life freely. Blessed be God ! 

When Alexander the Great was assaulting a 
city in India, he was the first to scale the walls. 
Tour of his officers jomed him, when the scaling- 
ladder broke and the monarch stood almost alone, 
exposed to all the fury of his enemies. What could 
he do % Leap back to his army below % That would 
turn them backward and lose the city. What then? 
Why, leap into the midst of his foes, trust to his 
good sword, and bide the help of his troops. He did 
so, placing his back against the wall of the fort and 
fighting with heroic courage until his soldiers came to 
his rescue and victory cro%vned his banners. 

Now, if you will throw yourself into the work of 
seeking God with the resolute spirit of this warrior- 
king, there is no possibility of your failure to find 
his mercy ; and if, with equal resolution, you pursue 



I PRAY THEFi HAVE ME EXCUSED. 191 

your way, after being pardoned, there is little proba- 
bility of your apostasy. God seeketh you! God 
will help you ! Be in earnest, and you will be saved ; 
for " Every one that asketh receiveth ; and he that 
seeketh findeth ; and to him that knocketh it shall be 
opened." 

Away then, beloved youth, with all your wicked 
excuses. They are all the language of sinful disin- 
clination. They are all lighter than the froth of the 
sea, baseless as the fabric of a vision, unreasonable as 
folly's idlest blab. Away with them. Drag your 
reluctant spirit to the feet of Christ. Struggle against 
your own disinclination. Read the word of God 
faithfully. Cry out against yourself in the ear of the 
Almighty. Turn your face toward him, resolving if 
you perish to do so at his feet crying for mer(|y, and, 
believe me, no soul can perish there ! 



192 PLEASAKT PATHWAYS. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE PROORASTrN^ATOE'S DOOM. 

Imagine yourself the inmate of a cell in some great 
prison. See a small tank suspended in a corner, with 
its top so close to the ceiling that you cannot look 
upon its contents. An unseen pipe conducts water 
to it in single drops. Suppose that you are under 
sentence of death, and that you are to be led out to 
die the moment after the first drop of water over= 
flows the tank and falls upon the prison-floor ! Would 
you not tremble as you heard the unceasing pat, pat, 
pat, of those terrible water-drops falling day and 
night? While you slept and while you were awake, 
while you ate and while you drank, ever and always 
they would keep dropping, slowly but surely filling 
up the fatal cistern, and bringing on the dreadful mo- 
ment in which the signal-drop would flow over the 
edge, roll down the side, and fall with a death-dealing 
splash upon the floor of your cell. Such an imprison- 



THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 193 

ment and such a doom are too painful to dwell 
upon. 

And yet, beloved youth, this terrible picture is but 
a dim image of your actual relations to God and 
eternity. Your immortal soul is imprisoned in its 
cell of clay, and is under sentence of eternal death. 
True, that sentence is held in suspension to give you 
opportunity either to seek its reversal and be saved, 
or " to fill up the measure of your iniquities " and be 
damned. Every moment of your life spent in alien- 
ation from God adds a drop to the already large 
amount of your transgression, and contributes to fill 
up the " measure of your iniquities." When that is 
accomplished you will be eternally ruined. The Spirit 
will forsake you, the god of this world will bind you 
with chains of steel to the death-cart, and when 
Divine Justice gives the signal, will drive you forth 
and cast you into the bottomless pit. " Every tree 
that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and 
cast into the fire." 

How full of real terror, therefore, is your present 
condition, would you but open your eyes and unseal 
your ears ! Would you reflect, every act of sin, every 
moment's neglect to come to Jesus, would sound like 



194 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

the drop of water in your prison's tank, and you would 
tremble, lest, the "measure of your iniquities" being 
filled, the Spirit of grace should forsake you and seal 
you over to " hardness of heart and blindness of mind" 
for evermore. Pause, therefore, beloved youth. Add 
not another sin to that fatal measure. Say not, "I 
will seek Christ by and by, but not now." Tarry not 
in the way of the procrastinator, for danger and death 
lurk there like robbers lying in wait for the unwary 
traveler. 

When the Eomans sought occasion to begin the 
second Punic war, they sent embassadors to state their 
demands to the Carthaginian Senate. The reply of 
that body not being satisfactory, one of the Eomans 
took up the folded lappet of his robe, and said, in a 
haughty tone : 

" I bring here either peace or war, the choice is left 
to yourselves !" 

"And we leave the choice to you," replied the 
Senate. 

" I give you war, then," said the Roman, unfolding 
his robe as he spoke. 

" And we as heartily accept it," retorted the senators 
of Carthage, in tones as haughty as those of the Roman. 



THE PEOCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 195 

I presume, my reader, you shrink from giving ut- 
terance to such daring words as fell from the lips of 
the men of Carthage, when the demands of Jehovah 
are pressed upon you by his embassadors. Like the 
Roman deputies, they bring you the alternative of 
peace or war, life or death ; the choice is left to you. 
In your case, however, God prefers peace between 
you and himself. He desires you to choose life, be- 
cause he is " not willing that any should perish, but 
that all should come to repentance." Still, the choice 
is left to you. It has been pressed upon you for 
years. It is urged upon you now. Since your first 
hour of accountability, the Holy Ghost has stood be- 
fore you constantly, saying : " If it seem evil unto you 
to serve the Lord, choose you this day whom ye 
will serve :" " Behold, noio is the accepted time ; 
behold, now is the day of salvation !" 

Have you met this demand in a brave, manly 
manner ? Like the men of Carthage, have you spoken 
your mind freely, and, in the language of the husband- 
man's son, said to your Maker, "/ will not serve 
thee ?" No, you have not had the hardihood to rush 
with such a daring answer on the sword of his anger. 
Bat you have used crafty words, saying, " I will serve 



196 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



tliee, Lord, but not now. I will seek thy face, but 
not to-day. In some future hour of convenience 
will make my peace with thee : for the present I must 
enjoy the profits and the pleasures of sin." 

Foolish youth! can you imagine that God is de- 
ceived by such silly craftiness as this ? Does he not 
look with searchmg eye into your heart and see the 
cowardice which begot those words of procrastination ? 
Does he not know that but for your indestructible 
consciousness of his power to cast you into hell, your 
reply to him would be as haughty, as decided, as 
daring as that of the senators of Carthage to the 
Roman deputy? Does he not also know that your 
words are equivalent to an absolute rejection of his 
service ? What have you to do with to-morrow ? Is 
not your life a passing cloud, an exhaling dew-drop, a 
fading flower? Knowing this, he does not ask you 
what you will do to-morrow. His inquiry is. Will 
you serve me to-day ? And when you reply in words 
of procrastination, you do in effect meet the Divine 
demand with a positive refusal. It is the same as if 
you said, " I will not !" 

O how wicked it is to procrastinate ! Aversion, 
cowardice, falsehood, rebellion, ingratitude, and folly 



1 

out ■ 

3i| 



THE FPvOCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 197 

are all included in it. Moreover, it is a sin which 
proclaims its own abominable wickedness. Why do 
you, young procrastinator, only defer instead of abso- 
lutely declining the service of God? Is not your 
promise of future obedience an admission of his eternal 
right to claim all the service you are able to give, and 
of your obligations to render it % You know it is so. 
You also know that your promise to give him your 
heart " by and by " is a miserable, cowardly subter- 
fuge, by which you secretly flatter yourself he will 
be so propitiated as to wink at your present wicked 
rejection of his love. Hence, your purpose to serve 
God in the future stamps the brand of deliberate 
wickedness on your present conduct. It is a pro- 
clamation to men, angels, and devils, by which you 
declare that, although you know it is your duty to 
give your heart to Christ, yet you are determined to 
trample upon his claims and your own obligations, 
and to spend the choicest portion of your life in sin- 
ning against the love which bought your pardon with 
the blood of the only begotten Son ! 

This is wickedness indeed — open, unblushing, con- 
scious, contemptuous, dastardly wickedness ! The im- 
moralities of an ignorant heathen, or papist, are venial 



198 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

when compared with the sin of procrastination in one 
whose path, from the cradle to this solemn hour, has 
been radiant with beams of light and love from the I 
Sun of righteousness, and overhung with the richly 
laden branches of the tree of life. It is of itself suffi- 
cient to justify your being driven into everlasting 
banishment from the " presence of God and the glory 
of his power." It is a sin by which you tread " under 
foot the Son of God," count "the blood of the 
covenant an unholy thing," and do "despite unto 
the Spirit of grace !" Believe, me, procrastination is 
a deadly sin. 

It is also as dangerous as it is abominable. Per- 
haps there is no other sin so successful in beguiling 
hearers of the Gospel into perdition, as procrastination. 
Hell is crowded with its victims, and millions of living 
youth, now walking in the road to destruction, are 
kept there by its necromantic spells. 

In Spenser's " Faerie Queen," the Eedcross Knight, 
enthralled by the blandishments of the false Duessa, 
is led into the wooded domain of a savage giant. 
Seeking repose beneath the shade of the forest trees 
he finds a fountain, 

" Where bubbling wave did ever freshly well." 



THE PEOCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 199 

Ignorant of its qualities he quaffs its crystal waters, 

when, 

*' Eftsoones Ms manly forces 'gan to fayle, 
And migMie strong was turned to feeble frayle." 

While the knight is weak from the effects of these 
enchanted waters, the giant comes forth, " hideous, 
horrible, and high," and challenges him to battle. 
But the poor knight, " faint in every joint and 
vein," is no match for such a foe. After a feeble 
defense he falls before the giant's might, and is borne 
with " hasty force" to the castle of his conqueror, and 
thrown, '^ without remorse," into a " dungeon deep." 

This romantic fancy of the poet aptly illustrates 
one of the evil influences of procrastination. As 
that enchanted fount enervated the Redcross knight, 
so does procrastination narcotize your conscience and 
make your will " feeble frayle." For proof of this, 
consult your own experience. When your moral 
nature is aroused by the voices of truth, how do you 
manage to lull it to slumber ? Do you not do it by 
drinking of the waters of procrastination ? " By and 
by I will seek the Lord," you say, and forthwith your 
conscience is overcome by the lassitude of sleep, and 
then you are " led captive by the devil at his will." Is 



200 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

it not so ? And is it not equally true, that your habit 
of procrastination has reduced your conscience to 
such an habitually slumberous condition that it rarely 
utters its protests against your life of sinful pleasure 
and wicked unbelief? You know this is its state ; 
and it being so, are you not in danger of sinking into a 
state of absolute moral insensibility ? Then you will 
cease to have even the fear of God before your eyes. 
Then what will become of your oft-repeated promise 
to serve God % Will you not be likely to despise it 
and to die impenitent '? 

See that bright-eyed maiden, seated on the green 
bank of yonder running stream. Her heart is gay, 
and her hands are filled with flowers of beauty rare. 
Full of sportive feeling she casts a flower into the 
stream, claps her little white hands, and smiles to see 
it float away upon the sunlit water. One by one she 
throws her flowers away, until the last is gone. And 
now she weeps, wishes she had kept them, and vainly 
cries to the unconscious stream, " Give me back my 
flowers !" 

In this maiden's folly you may see another evil in- 
fluence of procrastination. It is b^uiling you of 
your time as the stream beguiled the child of her 






THE PKOCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 201 

flowers. Hours are precious opportunities, especially 
those sacred ones in which serious thoughts give 
birth to anxious questionings about the soul. Such 
hours are worth more than rubies. They are the 
golden periods of the " accepted time." If properly 
employed they would yield you eternal salvation. 
But every act of procrastination casts one of them 
into the stream of time. Having flung away one 
such priceless opportunity by delay, it is easy to 
throw away a second, and easier still to waste a third. 
Repeating these acts creates a habit by force of 
which the mind comes at last to spontaneously, 
almost unconsciously, postpone its religious duties as 
regularly as they are presented to it. As a conse- 
quence the original promise to seek God is not kept. 
The " convenient time "—the imaginary " by and 
by " — never arrives, for before it comes the procras- 
tinator is surprised by the summons of death, and 
drops, with his violated promises, into the lake of 
everlasting damnation. As saith the poet : 

" The hoary fool, who many days 
Has struggled with continued sorrow, 

Eenews his hope, and fondly lays 
The desperate bet upon to-morrow. 



202 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

■ " To-morrow comes ! 'TLs noon ; 'tis night ! 
This day like all the former flies ; 
Yet on he goes to seek delight 
To-morrow, when to-night he dies !" 

" He that, being often reproved, hardeneth his 
neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without 
remedy." 

Suddenly destroyed! What a fearful thought! 
After so many day-dreams of prospective godliness, 
to be suddenly driven into hell is a sad close to a 
life so full of hopeful beginnings as yours. Yet God 
has spoken it. Sudden destruction is your doom if 
you continue to " harden your neck " by delaying 
your duty. You may see how God often treats 
such as you are in the following facts : 

Three young men, with axes on their shoulders, 
were on their way to the woods one morning, when 
they met a minister who spoke earnest words to 
them on the subject of their salvation. Two of them 
listened seriously ; the third pointed, with gayety in 
his manner, to a distant house and said : 

" Do you see that splendid white house on yonder 
farm f 

"Yes." 

" Well, sir, that estate has been willed to me by 



THE PKOCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 203 

my uncle. There are incumbrances upon it which I 
must remove before the farm can be fully mine. As 
soon as I have paid them all off I mean to become 
a Christian." 

The minister sighed, looked affectionately at the 
youth, and replied : " Ah, young man, beware ! You 
may never see that day. While you are gaining the 
world you may lose your soul !" 

"77/ run the risk /" rejoined the confident heir. 

They parted. The minister went his way seeking 
other souls for his Lord. The young men entered 
the woodlands and began chopping. The ax of the 
young heir cut deeply into an old tree with swift 
repeated strokes. He saw not a huge dead branch 
which trembled above him as his sturdy blows 
fell on the trunk beneath. But the jar of his 
ax shook it off, and it fell with a fearful crash upon 
his head, and stretched him dead upon the ground ! 
He was " suddenly destroyed^ and that without 
remedy /" 

Take another fact A young lady joined the Sab- 
bath school in a church of which I was pastor at the 
time. The teacher, who was very pious, spoke to her 
concerning her soul, "Time enough yet," said the 



204 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

girl, laughing, " I am only sixteen years old. I mean 
to enjoy the world a year or two before I seek 
religion." 

Two weeks from the hour in which she gave utter- 
ance to those idle words, I stood beside her corpse 
exhorting a crowded audience to beware how, like 
her, they postponed until to-morrow the work God 
required them to perform to-day. She, too, was 
" suddenly destroyed.'''^ 

God is in earnest with you, young immortal, and 
he wishes you to be in earnest with him. His rights 
over you, his mercies to you, his great gift of his 
Son's life, are objects of uiiinite importance to him. 
He will not permit you to trifle with them with im- 
punity. Yet, what is procrastination but a wicked 
trifling with these solemn realities ? What deliberate 
contempt you pour on the smile of God, on the blood 
of Jesus, on the Holy Spirit, when you coolly bid 
them stand aside until you are at leisure to accept 
them ? You postpone his offer of love and mercy ! 
Think of it. You^ a mere moth whom he could 
destroy with a glance of his eye, postpone the accept- 
ance of the Almighty's richest gift. You^ a ruined 
sinner, defer acceptance of that loving help without 



THE PROCRASTHSTATOR'S DOOM. 205 

which you must be endlessly wretched. What msen- 
sate pride ! What unparalleled madness ! Surely if 
God's patience were not infinite, he would smite you 
with sudden destruction for daring to insult him by 
postponing your acceptance of the great salvation. 
But, blessed be his holy name ! he is very long-suffer- 
ing, and therefore he endures much from you. 

Still it is dangerous to trifle with this gracious 
long-suffering. Deep as it is, it may be sounded with 
the line of willful presumption. The ancient Jews 
did this, and God swore in his wrath: "They shall 
not enter into my rest." The burial of a whole gene- 
ration in the sands of the desert testified Jehovah's 
faithfulness to that terrible oath. " Wherefore, as the 
Holy Ghost saith, To-day if ye will hear his voice 
harden not your heart." Nothing grieves and angers 
your Creator more than the presumptuous trifling 
which is involved in the habit of procrastination. 
Listen to the hoarse voice of your insulted God and 
tremble. He says : 

" Because I have called and ye refused ; ... ye have 
set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my 
reproof: I also will laugh at your calamity : I will 
mock when your fear cometh." 



206 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

/ will laugh at your calamity! Awful words, 
pregnant with manifold horrors! Yow calamity! 
What will that be ? What, but a heart forsaken of 
God, blinded by the " god of this world,"^ given over 
to hardness and unbelief, abandoned by the Holy 
Spirit, damned this side of the grave? And w^hen 
you have brought this " calamity " upon yourself, He 
with whom you have so long trifled will pity no more, 
but he will " laugh /" When your " fear cometh," 
as come it must, he will not fly to your relief but 
will " MOCK !" because you " did not choose the fear 
of the Lord." 

Beware then, thou child of many prayers, how you 
tempt God to bring this calamity upon you by the 
withdrawal of his Holy Spirit. Has he not said, 
" Grieve not the Holy Spirit !" " Quench not the 
Spirit!" "If ye seek him he will be found Oi 
you ; but if ye forsake him, he will forsake you." 
[ cannot tell you when, at what age, or by what 
particular act the Spirit is quenched; but, re- 
member, 

" There is a time, we know not when, 

A point we know not where, 
That marks the destiny of men 

To glory or despair." 



THE PKOCPtASTINATOB'S DOOM. 207 

That you may feel these threats of spiritual aban- 
donment are more than empty sounds, I will sketch 
a fact or two, from among thousands of similar cases, 
in which persons have been awfully conscious of 
having crossed the line of doom. 

" Have you never felt concern for your soul, 
madam ?" said a minister to a lady who was about 
thirty years old. 

" Yes," she replied, " / thinlc that fevj have felt as I 
did once.^^ 

" At what period of life, madam f 

" When I was about fifteen," said she, " I felt my- 
self a siimer. I could not sleep. For three years I 
seldom had peace a week at a time. I knew the 
Spirit was striving with me and that I ought to yield. 
But I loved the pleasures of youth. I banished 
thoughts of eternity. I read novels and romances, 
which gave me relief awhile, but my distress re- 
turned. At last I went to the ball-room, and / 
have never had religious feelings since /" 

The minister sighed, and asked, " Have you no 
fears lest you have grieved away the Holy Spirit f 

''I have no doubt of it^ and I shall be lost," said the 
lady, with the utmost coolness. 



208 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

The good minister was profoundly moved. He 
pleaded with earnest words and sympathetic tears, 
begging her to try the effect of prayer. Vain» 
attempt! She arose, waved her hand, and as she 
retired from the room, said : 

"All this has been tried upon me before. 
Nothing that you or any other man can say on 
that subject can move me now. My doom is 

FIXED !" 

Let me pencil another illustration. An impenitent 
old man was asked, " Did you ever feel the import- 
ance of religion f 

" Yes, when I was young I often had serious times," 
he said. 

" When did you feel most?" 

" When I was seventeen I felt deeply, at times, and 
for two or three years after. I resolved, however, to 
put it off until I was settled in life. After I was 
married I again felt that I ought then to begin my re- 
ligious life. But I had bought a farm, and I thought, 
as it would cost time and money to attend church, I 
would save the expense until I paid for my farm. I 
resolved to put off being a Christian for ten years. 
The ten years passed, but I thought no more about it. 



THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 209 

1 often try to think now, but cannot keep my mind on 
the subject one moment /" 

" Try, do try, my friend," entreated the minister, 
" for God is gracious." 

"It is too late," said the gray-headed patriarch; 
"/ believe my doom is sealed^ and it is just it should 
be so, for the Spirit strove long with me, but I 
refused." 

Reader, can you endure the thought of becoming 
so petrified in heart as to be " past feeling," like this 
man and that lady ? You cannot, I know. The bare 
idea quickens your heart-throbs. You shrink before 
it as from the brink of a frightful gulf It is well 
you have such feelings; but remember that every 
purpose of delay, every excuse offered, every mental 
act of resistance to the Spirit, is a step toward their 
doom. I do not affirm that without instant re- 
pentance you will certainly enter the iron cage of 
stern despair in which they were shut up, for you 
may find the wicket-gate hereafter. But fail not to 
consider that you are in the very path by which they 
walked into that cage! Is not that fact conclusive 
proof of your danger ? Should it not be to you as 

the angel in the way of Balaam 1 Heed it, study it, 
14 



210 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

be moved by it, and rest not until, like Bunyan's pil- 
grim, you turn your back upon a sinful life, and, with 
God's book in your hand, are found in the way to the 
celestial city. O hasten, hasten, young sinner, 

*' Hasten, mercy to implore ! 

Stay not for the morrow's sun, 
Lest thy season should he o'er 

Ere this evening's stage he run." 

Sometimes the Spirit remains with the stubborn 
procrastinator to show him his guilt, but not to light 
his wayward feet to the cross. The following exam- 
ples are in point. 

A gay young man, charmed by the voices of sin- 
ful pleasures, threw away his hours of opportmiity, 
silencing the reproofs of his faithfiil conscience by 
promises of what he would do by and by. In the 
heyday of his delights a mortal disease took posses- 
sion of the chamber of life and bade him depart 
quickly to the realms of death. He shuddered at the 
thought of meeting his neglected Creator. A friend 
pointed him to the cross of Jesus, saying : 

" Look to Christ. His promises of mercy are very 
precious. His Gospel is a balm for all the wounds 
which sin has made in your soul." 



THE PROCKASTINATOR'S DOOM. 211 

With despair in his flashing eyes, and agony in his 
hollow voice, the youth replied : 

"True, but that Gospel which / have despised 
through my life affords me no balm in my death. 
There is no mercy for me now !" 

Having spoken thus, he closed his eyes and shortly .• 
afterward expired. Procrastination had robbed him 
of eternal life. 

Three students, high in spirits and vigorous of 
limb, were bathing in a river at a small distance 
above its falls. After swimming for a while, they 
agreed to float down the stream. The calmly flowing 
waters bore them gently along, until, having ap- 
proached the falls, the students felt that the velocity 
of the current was increasing rapidly. Two of them, 
feeling alarmed, swam at once for the shore, from 
which they hailed their companion, and begged him 
not to risk his life by floating any farther. But he 
only laughed and said, " It is pleasant floating." 

Then his companions, trembling at his fool-hardi- 
ness, shouted : 

" Make for the shore, or you will go over the falls." 

Again he laughed, and replied, "It is pleasant 
floating." 



212 PLEASAKT PATHWAYS. 

A moment more, and he felt the current sweeping 
him along with alarming swiftness. Then he was 
terrified, and with strong efforts tried to swim ashore. 
O how he struggled against that remorseless stream. 
Vain attempt ! The roaring waters mocked his 
anguish, drowned his cries, and hurried him to his 
fate. Soon, alas! how soon, he reached the awful 
brink. Then, throwing out his arms, he leaped up, 
uttered a piercing shriek, and was dragged by the 
mighty arms of the flood down into the boiling abyss 
below. 

Mournful spectacle ! And yet is it not a picture of 
the manner in which a class of procrastinators reach 
their doom? It is pleasant floating^ said that ill-fated 
youth, thinking he would swim away from the falls 
when the danger became imminent. It is pleasant 
sinning^ cries the procrastinator, to the friends of his 
soul, who vainly try to call him from the brink of the 
pit ; and he too thinks he will stop sinning in time to be 
saved ; yes, it is pleasant sinning when the voices of 
the Spirit are lost in the noises of dissipation, and the 
drugged conscience slumbers in some out-of-the-way 
corner of the soul. But is not the awakening terri- 
ble when the roaring waters warn the unhappy child 



THE PROCRASTI]N"ATOR'S DOOM. 213 

of delay that he is on the brink of that mysterious 
gulf we call eternity? What alarm startles him 
then ! What horror thrills him ! What shrinking ! 
What struggling ! What a vain leaping back from 
destiny ! What overwhelming ruin closes his career ! 
The following facts are in point : 

A pastor once besought one of his regular hearers 
to seek a personal interest in Christ. With a laugh 
upon her lips, she replied : 

"0, / shall only want Jive minutes when I am dying 
to cry for mercy ^ and I have no doubt God Almighty 
will give it me." 

With tearful eyes and earnest words that pastor 
besought the infatuated woman not to presume so 
daringly on the forbearance of God. Again and 
again he urged her to immediate repentance ; again 
and again she repeated her presumptuous words. Her 
heart was hardened against God. Mark the result 

One day, as the pastor was walking down the 
street, a young woman, greatly excited, ran up to 
him and exclaimed: 

" O Mr. East, I have foimd you ! Do come to my 
mother, sir ! Come this minute, sir ! She is dying !" 

With rapid steps the good man followed the agi- 



214 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

tated girl. Judge his surprise when he entered the 
death-chamber and the agonized features of the pre- 
sumptuous procrastinator, with whom he had so 
vainly labored, met his eye ! She was at the point 
of death. Turning her expiring eyes upon her pas- 
tor, she cried out in piercing tones : 

" O Mr. East, I am damned ! I am damned !" 

Horror-struck, the good pastor stepped to her bed- 
side with words of mercy on his lips. But it was too 
late. Her spirit was struggling in the abysmal 
depths of infinite despair ! 

Now let me lead you into an old Moorish-looking 
stone building in th.e town of Monterey. Open the 
door gently, for see ! on that little cot lies a young 
lieutenant in the American army. He is sick, very 
sick. A military friend is bending over his feverish 
body. Hark ! they are talking. Let us listen. 

" How do you feel to-night ?" asks the soldier in a 
whisper. 

The sick man stares vacantly at the questioner. 
Now he speaks: "I must die — die — yes die, and 
see my home no more !" 

He pauses again, but soon speaks in a louder 
voice: "But the past! the future! The past! a 



THE PROCRASTIKATOR'S DOOM. 215 

scene of hardship and toil — a jealous striving to be 
great; a mere vacuum, void of everything save con- 
science. The future ! ah, the terrible future ! Hope 1 
hope is extinct. I am irretrievably lost — a curse to 
existence, a miserable, degraded wretch!" 

Now he is silent. The cemetery clock strikes 
eleven! The dying soldier speaks again: "What!" 
he exclaims, "has the clock tolled another hour and 
still I exist? O that I had never had a being !" 

See him stretch out his arms as if reaching after 
something. Hear him cry, " Mother ! mother ! save 
me ! save your son !" 

He is quiet again and gazes into vacuity. Once 
more he cries: "Come back! come back! — but no, 
she has left me." 

His strength is gone. He falls back upon his 
couch. An hour passes. He slowly articulates, 
"God — is — just!" and as the church-bell tolls the 
midnight hour his soul passes into eternity. 

Such is the doom of the procrastinator. A. death 
full of anguish, or a heart forsaken of God, and there- 
fore hard as granite, is his lot. In either case a heri- 
tage of endless calamity is his destiny. Keader, do 
you wish to sink beneath such a weary weight of 



216 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

woe ? Are you prepared to be abandoned of God 1 
If not, then, by all that is terrible in the thought, de- 
lay not another moment the duty which ought to have 
been done years ago. Now, before you lay aside this 
book, record your solenm purpose to "flee from the 
wrath to come." Resolve, O resolve to turn at once 
from sin to God. Jesus calls thee. Hark ! 

" Jesus knocketh at thy heart, 

Else and let him in ; 
Knocketh with a bleeding hand, 

Wounded for thy sin. 
Jesus knocketh night and day, 

Waiting at thy side ; 
Canst thou turn the Lord away? 

Scorn the Crucified ?" 

Jesus loves you ! Did he not shed his blood be- 
cause of the love he bore you? Has he not wept 
over you, interceded for you, striven :with you, done 
all that infinite love guided by wisdom could devise 
to save you ? Could he have done more than he has 
done ? Why then will you longer refuse to give him 
your heart % 

Jesus seeks you ! Never did shepherd seek a lost 
sheep as faithfully as Jesus has sought to win your 
soul to his service. Do you remember those loving 



THE PROCRASTINATOE'S DOOM. 217 

thoughts of God, those solemn meltmg moods of 
mind, those tears of transient penitence, those breath- 
ings of desire, those inward warnings which have so 
often come upon you ever since the days of your 
childhood? They were the whispers, the motions, 
the breathings of Jesus. He was seeking thee. He 
seeks thee now. Will you bid him go empty away ? 

Why will you destroy yourself? Can you endure 
everlasting burnings? Can you afford to lose the 
joys of religion here and of heaven hereafter? Is 
there any wisdom or any profit in staying away from 
Christ ? Do not your reason and conscience tell you 
that you ought to seek God? Why then will you 
longer act in opposition to your profoundest con- 
victions ? 

Why will you destroy others? You cannot go to 
hell alone. Your example is sure to lead some of 
your friends and companions along the path you 
choose. You have influence over some who are very 
dear to your affections. Will you expend it in pro- 
moting their misery ? Will you lead your compan- 
ions into hell ? Will you difRise the malaria of irre- 
ligion throughout the social atmosphere in which you 
live? O cruel youth, forbear! If you have no pity 



218 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

on yourself, pity your friends and spare them the 
misery of being damned through your influence and 
example ! For the sake of others, if not for your 
own, I beseech you give your heart to Christ at once. 

Do you wish to break the hearts of your pious 
mother and father? This question is for the child of 
pious parents. If, through procrastinating, you are 
" suddenly destroyed," or die either in the torpor or 
the agonies of despair, your spiritual destruction will 
bring the gray hairs of your parents in sorrow to 
the grave. Let me sketch a thrilling illustration 
for your consideration. 

Yonder is an old man, gray-haired and feeble. 
His face is pale, big tears are trickling down his 
withered cheeks, and he is wringing his hands as if 
some sharp agony was wrestling with his spirit. 
What ails^him? 

He has heard that his son is in an adjacent mine in 
which a " sand-blast " has just been fired. " Cannot you 
leave your son in the hands of Godf inquires a friend. 

" O !" said he, " I could if he had religion !" 

There is now a stir about the mouth of the mine. 
A man is coming up the ladder with tidings of the 
old man's son. " Is he alive?" the people ask. 



THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 219 

" No, his head is all torn to pieces 1" is the terrible 
reply. 

The old man's friend leads him back among the 
rocks and says : " My dear friend, you must give up 
your boy ; he is dead !" 

Fearful was the shriek which escaped that old 
man's lips, as still ^mnging his hands, he cried : 

" O his poor soul ! what has become of his soul ?" 

Who could sound the depths of that father's grief 
over the lost soul of his son ? Who conceive the in- 
tensity of his agony ? Yet thus will that noble father 
and that sweet mother of thine suffer if they should see 
you die an impenitent sinner. Do you wish to add 
the crime of breaking their hearts to your other sins ] 
If not, I beseech you, humble yourself under the 
mighty hand of God this moment. 

You are sure to he pardoned if you seek the Saviour^ 
Encouraging thought ! Having died as your substi- 
tute ; having made every possible provision for your 
salvation; having invited you to his arms; having 
offered and promised you pardon; having made it 
the grand purpose of his government over you to 
bring you into union with himself, there is, there can 
be no doubt of your finding his favor if you will seek 



220 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

it heartily and at once. Listen ! The Saviour speaks. 
He says : " Come unto me all ye that labor and are 
heavy laden, and I will give you rest." " The Spirit 
and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth 
say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And 
whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." 

Come then, beloved youth, come to thy long- 
neglected Saviour. Seek him now, just now. Say 
to him in all sincerity : 

" Here is my heart ! My God, I give it tliee : 

I heard thee call and say, 
* Not to the world, my child, but unto me ;' 

I heard, and will obey. 
Here is love's offering to my King, 
Which, a glad sacrifice, I hring — 
Here is my heart." 



VOICES OF DUTY. 221 



CHAPTEE XI. 

VOICES OF DUTY. 

When tlie illustrious Nelson was leading England's 
proud fleet into action with the combined navies of 
France and Spain, he electrified his followers by 
signalizing, as his battle-cry, the following lofty sen- 
timent : " England expects every man to do his 



DUTY 



!" 



When the hero of Austerlitz wished to excite his 
victorious troops to fresh deeds of danger and daring, 
he thrilled them with this proclamation : '' When 
everything necessary to the prosperity of our country 
is obtained, I will lead you back to France. My 
people will again behold you with joy. It will be 
enough for one of you to say, ' I was at the battle of 
Austerlitz !' for all your fellow-citizens to exclaim, 
' There is a brave man !'" 

You can doubtless see a wide difference between 
the signal of the admiral and the proclamation of the 



222 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

emperor. There is a touch of sublimity in both, 
because they both make each person addressed regard 
his personal conduct as the object of a nation's obser- 
vation. But how superior is the signal to the procla- 
mation, in the sentiment it addresses and the motive 
it evokes? The proclamation appeals to the vanity 
of the troops, by promising them the voices of 
national applause as the reward of their bravery; the 
signal speaks to the patriotism and the moral sense of 
the sailors, by suggestmg consciousness of duty per- 
formed up to the height of the national expectation, 
as a motive to that heroic effort which conquers, or 
dies in the pursuit of victory. 

Which, then, is the nobler appeal? If conscientious 
patriotism be a loftier sentiment than love of personal 
glory ; if exalted motives gild the acts they inspire 
with their own peculiar luster, then is the signal 
as superior to the proclamation as the heroism of 
duty is to the achievments of vanity. 

I have used these illustrations for the purpose of 
introducing a motive to godliness, which, while it 
underlies the preceding chapters, has not been made 
prominent in them — the motive of duty ? Thus far I 
have chiefly exhibited piety as the only dispenser of 



VOICES OF DUTY. 223 

true happiness. My appeal has mainly been to your 
self-love— not to your " private self-love," or selfish- 
ness^ but to that regard for your own well-being which 
is natural, and which, if sought in harmony with the 
Divine will and the good of others, is right. Hither- 
to I have taken for granted that you admit a life of 
piety to be your duty ; but now I wish to make this 
motive emphatic — to show you that religion is duty, 
that God has rights in you which you are bound to 
respect, and that the " Lord hath chosen you to stand 
before him, to serve him." 

You have probably read an incident in the life of 
Prussia's most warlike sovereign, Frederick the 
Great, in which that strange monarch's will was suc- 
cessfully resisted by a sturdy miller. The uncouth 
edifice in which the latter ground corn for the 
citizens of Potsdam, obstructed the view from the 
windows of the royal palace. The king, annoyed by 
its presence, sent a messenger to its owner with the 
question : 

" For what price will you sell your mill ?" 
"For no price," replied the independent miller, 
who, having received the estate from his ancestors 
had no wish to part with it. 



224 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



The king, angered by this reply to his overture, 
said to his officers, " Let the mill be pulled down !" 

When the servants of his majesty began the work 
of demolition the honest miller quietly folded his 
arms and said : 

" The king may do this, but there are laws in 
Prussia." 

This bold man, conscious of his rights, invoked the 
law. His cause was heard, and the court decided that 
the king should rebuild the mill, and pay the miller a 
large sum of money besides, as a compensation for 
the injury done to his business by the destruction 
of his property. The king's feelings were sorely 
wounded by this decision, but his sense of justice pre- 
vailed, and he submitted, saying : 

"I am glad to find that just laws and upright 
judges exist in my kingdom." 

In this interesting fact you cannot fail to see that 
the miller, being the legal owner of the mill, had the 
right to control it as he pleased. He could keep 
it, sell it, give it away, alter it, allow it to stand, or 
pull it down, and so long as he did not use it to the 
injury of his neighbors, no one, not even the king, 
had any right to interfere with the disposition he 



VOICES OF DUTY. 225 

might choose to make of it. When, therefore, the 
king tried to compel him to sell it, and when he 
pulled it down, he ^Yi^onged him, by trampling on his 
rights as its legal proprietor. Both as a man and a 
king he ought to have respected those rights. It was 
his duty to do so. 

I have used this historic fact to impress you with 
the great truth that Jehovah, being the owner and 
proprietor of your nature, has the right to govern you 
in all things, and that you, being his creature — ay, 
his yro^erty — are bound by the solemn obligations of 
duty to dispose of yourself according to his will. 

" Behold all souls are mine." " I am the Lord 
thy God." "Ye call me Master and Lord, and ye say 
well, for so I am." " God that made the world, and 
all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven 
and earth, . . . commandeth all men everywhere 
to repent." In these words of the Most High 
he asserts his proprietorship of your soul. He 
claims to be your owner in the most absolute sense, 
founding his claim on the fact of his creatorship, 
which makes his rights of property in you most per- 
fect and unimpeachable. 

Let this thought sink into your mind, young 
15 



226 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

reader. God is your owner. He made you, and 
therefore you belong to him, mind and body, intellect, 
affections, will ; every faculty, capacity, and power ; 
everything within you and mthout you ; all you see, 
hear, feel ; all and everything belong to him in the 
most positive and absolute sense. What a perfect 
state of dependence is yours ! " You are not your 
own," but God's; just as the earth, the sun, the 
moon, and the stars are his property, so are you ! 

If the miller's legal ownership in the mill at Pots- 
dam gave him the right to control it, how much more 
does God's absolute ownership of your nature give him 
the right to govern you ? You cannot deny his right, 
since every claim for your obedience which he sets 
up finds its justification in your reason, every com- 
mand he utters from Sinai or Calvary has its echo 
in your own conscience. 

If the miller's rights in his ancestral estate made it 
the duty of the Prussian king to leave him unmolest- 
ed in disposing of it, how much more do God's rights 
of property in you make it your duty to use yourself 
according to his wishes 1 Rights and duties are recip- 
rocal, you know. If it be God's right to control your 
person and direct your conduct, is it not also your 



VOICES OF DUTY. 227 

duty to submit to his government % Appeal to your 
conscience ! Bring the law of Horeb and the teachings 
of Calvary, in all the completeness and spirituality of 
their precepts, before it. Let them instruct you, un- 
disturbed by the voices of passion, unblinded by the 
mists and vapors of carnal desires. Do they not com- 
pel you to say, in the most sacred sanctuary of your 
spirit: "I ought to submit in all things and at all 
times to the commands of God V 

I know it is even so. Your reason and your con- 
science acknowledge both God's rights and your duty. 
While, therefore, you are moved to a life of piety by 
considerations of your personal well-being, let this be 
a corner-stone of your religious character — It is my 

DUTY TO SERVE GoD ! I WILL OBEY HIM BECAUSE I AM 
HIS CREATURE, AND HE IS MY GoD ! 

When King Frederick tore down the mill, did he 
not trample on the legal rights of the miller % When 
he took away its materials, was he not guilty of rob- 
bery? By disregarding the law did he not set an 
example which, if generally imitated, would have 
filled his kingdom with riot and anarchy % By what 
names, then, shall I designate your acts of disobedi- 
ence to God? Does not every refusal of yours to 



228 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

obey him, trample upon his rights, rob him of that 
service from your powers which is his just due, and 
set an example of rebellion which, if universally fol- 
lowed by the sentient creation, would leave him with- 
out a rational worshiper in the universe? Yes, sin 
is rebellion, treason, robbery, injustice, wrong. It is 
the greatest injury you can do to yourself It is 
base insult to the King of kings. It is an act of dar- 
ing, as if a naked homeless pauper should spit in the 
face of his lawful king. O my reader, repeat not the 
terrible offense ! Recognize the rights of your Ci'eator, 
and crawl humbly to his feet, with tearful eyes, and 
with solemn resolutions of loyalty in time to come. 

You are doubtless familiar with the story of the 
Macedonian soldier, who was shipwrecked and cast 
ashore by the waves, helpless, nude, and nearly dead. 
A farmer found him in this sad condition, and bore 
him from the beach to his home. There he laid him 
on his own bed, restored him to consciousness, nour- 
ished him, and for six weeks supplied all his wants 
with more than a brother's tenderness and liberality. 

The soldier, restored to health and vigor by this 
affectionate care, and furnished with money for his 
jourj^cy by his liberal host, left the house of his 



VOICES OF DUTY. 229 

benefactor, and went to the court of King Philip, 
That monarch, who knew the soldier to be a man of 
uncommon valor, received him with favor, listened 
with interest to the story of his misfortunes, and asked 
him what reward he craved for his services. 

" Give me," said the unworthy warrior, " the lands 
which lie along the shore where I was wrecked !" 

"They are yours," replied the prince; and thus 
the soldier became the owner of the estate of his ben- 
efactor. Armed with authority from the king, he 
returned to the house of his hospitable host, drove 
him from his home, and took possession of all his 
property. 

The injured farmer took measures to inform King 
Philip of the services he had rendered his unprinci- 
pled guest, and of this most ungracious treatment. 
Pired with indignation at the unexampled ingratitude 
of the soldier, the monarch revoked his gift, restored 
the property to its true owner, seized the soldier, and 
caused the words '^Ungrateful GuesV^ to be branded 
on his forehead. 

Here is a fact of an opposite character. An aged 
gentleman, who had spent his life in the enjoyment of 
all the comforts and elegancies which abundant wealth 



230 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

can procure, met with an overwhelming misfortune, 
which, like a mighty flood, suddenly swept his prop- 
erty away. Reduced to poverty, he broke up his 
establishment and dismissed his domestics. Among 
his servants there was one who refused to quit him. 
She said : 

"I have served you twenty-five years. You 
have treated me with the kindness of a master, a 
father, and a friend. To you, under God, I owe my 
life, my education, and the salvation of my soul. I 
cannot leave you. I have saved considerable money 
in your service. Accept it, and let m.e still serve 
you, trusting in Him who feedeth the ravens to pro- 
vide for me should I ever become old and helpless." 

The unfortunate old man wept, as well he might, on 
hearing these noble words. He took his servant's 
money and lived on it until the death of a relative 
restored him to competence. Then he returned the 
servant's gift with interest, and when he died further 
requited her gratitude by bequeathing her an ample 
maintenance. 

Now review these facts and tell me what your 
feelings are toward the several parties? Does not 
your soul recoil with emotions of dislike, contempt. 



VOICES OF DUTY. 281 

and horror from the conduct of the soldier toward 
his benefactor? On the contrary, does not your 
heart warm with strong approval of the grateful ser- 
vant? But why do these' opposite emotions swell 
your breast? Is it not because you are so constituted 
as to perceive, by simple intuition, that he who, being 
needy, is benefited by another, is under obligations to 
be grateful in heart and act to the benefactor who 
ministers to his necessities. The soldier violated this 
obligation, and therefore you instinctively abhor him ; 
the servant respected it, and you as instinctively 
approve and admire her conduct. 

Will you now apply this principle to yourself and 
the Creator ? Is he not your benefactor ? What but 
his goodness led him to give you being ? He would 
be infinitely happy if his dominion was one vast, 
illimitable solitude, without a created voice to break 
its mysterious silence. Not for the increase of his 
own bliss, therefore, did he bring you into life ; but 
he did it that you might taste the luxury of exist- 
ence, and enjoy the happiness of knowing and loving 
him. Then, with what wonderful skill and benefi- 
cence he molded your form into beauty, and framed 
it so that the proper exercise of its functions is a con- 



232 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

stant source of pleasure ! With what munificence he 
has provided objects of utility, beauty, and sublimity 
in the world for the supply of your wants, the grati- 
fication of your tastes, and the instruction of your 
understanding ! With what fatherly love has his eye 
watched and his arm protected your life from the first 
moment of your existence until now ! What unnum- 
bered dangers he has averted from you ! From what 
innumerable causes of death he has shielded you! 
How often has his invisible arm dragged you from 
the open jaws of ruin ! How profusely has he pour- 
ed earthly blessings and comforts into your lap ! 
With what unspeakable condescension has he stooped 
to care for you, to sympathize with you, to make you 
an object of especial concern, though you are but as 
the " drop of a bucket " amid the amplitude and 
grandeur of his infinite dominion ! Surely he is your 
benefactor, ^nd you may very fitly lift your adoring 
eyes to his throne and say : 

" Thou sMn'st with, everlasting rays ; 
Before the insufferable blaze 

Angels with both wings vail their eyes ; 
Yet free as air thy bounty streams ; 
On all thy works thy mercy's beams, 

Biflusive as thy sun's, arise. 



VOICES OF DUTY. 233 

" Astonish.' d at thy frowning brow, 

Earth, hell, and heaven's strong pillars bow ; 

Terrible majesty is thine ! 
"Who tben can that vast love express 
WTiicTb lows thee down to me — who less 

Than nothing am, till thou art mine !" 

Yes, God is your benefactor indeed. The favors 
of all your human friends compared with his are but 
as the tiniest streams that trickle from mountain- 
sides to the oceans which girdle the globe. Standing 
thus related to him as a helpless dependant on an 
almighty benefactor, what is your duty 1 Say, poor 
worm, whose power to crawl in the light of the 
majestic sweetness which crowns his regal brow is 
derived from him — say, what ought you do ? Ought 
you not to return his benefactions by rendering him 
the ceaseless homage of a grateful heart, and the obe- 
dience which he has condescended to command in his 
holy word ? Apart from all other considerations, is 
it not God's right ^ as your owner and benefactor, to 
require your service, and your duty^ as his creature 
whom he has loaded with benefits, to declare with the 
Psalmist, " O Lord, truly I am thy servant ?" I 
know that your conscience dictates an afiirmative 
reply, and you cannot withhold your approval of the 



234 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

sentiment of the great Chalmers, who says : " Only 
grant God to be our benefactor and our owner, and 
on this relation alone do we confidently found our 
obligations, both of love and gratitude." 

During a heavy and long-continued gale of wind, 
accompanied with dense fog, the look-out at the bows 
of a ship shouted, " Breakers ahead !" 

" Port your helm !" cried the captain to the steers- 
man. 

It was too late. Before the order could be obeyed 
the ship dashed upon a rock and became a helpless 
wreck. The boats were got out ; most of the seamen 
and passengers crowded into them, while some leaped 
into the sea and swam for the shore, which was nigh. 
Among the passengers were a lady and her son, who 
were left uncared for until the last seaman was leav- 
ing the ship. Grasping the boy, he said : " There is 
room for you in the boat," and was about to lower 
liim over the bulwarks. 

But the boy tore himself from the sailor's grasp, 
and said : " Save my mother, if you have to let me 
drown !" 

There was no time for hesitation or reflection. The 
mother was hurried into the boat. The boy leaped 



VOICES OF DUTY. 235 

overboard and was happily picked up by the other 
boat and saved with the mother, who, but for his 
noble spirit of self-sacrifice, would have been left to 
perish on the wreck. 

This fact may illustrate a great truth. Let it teach 
you that unusual benefits impose new and special obli- 
gations to gratitude and service on their recipients. 
It had always been that mother's duty to love and 
serve her son, because she was his mother ; but after 
he, by his self devotion, had saved her life, were not 
new obligations of gratitude and love imposed upon 
her? He was only her son before; afterward he 
was also her heroic deliverer — the saviour of her 
life, and she was therefore bound to him by a 
new tie. 

And is not your Creator, owner, and benefactor, 
also your Eedeemer and Saviour? Hear what Holy 
Scripture saith of him in this relation : He " bought" 
you "with a price." "He redeemed you not with 
corruptible things, as silver and gold .... but with 
the precious blood of Christ" He "so loved" you 
that "he gave his only-begotten Son" to be "wounded 
for your transgressions," " bruised " for your "iniqui- 
ties." "He laid on him" your iniquity; the "chas- 



236 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

tisement" of your peace was upon him, and by "his 
stripes " you may be healed. 

This redeeming act was God's most wonderful and 
infinite benefaction. Christ crucified was the richest 
gift in your Creator's possession ; the highest possi- 
ble demonstration of his exhaustless love! What 
greater thing can mind imagine than an Almighty 
Being giving his coequal Son to be incarnated and 
made to suffer as the substitute of a race of guilty 
creatures ? What higher good could Deity offer to 
intelligent though sinful beings, than pardon, adop- 
tion, participation in his own moral beauty, and inti- 
mate fellowship with himself around the throne on 
which he chiefly manifests his person and glory ? 
What more perfect demonstration of sincere solici- 
tude for human happiness can be imagined than is 
found in the provisions of the Gospel ? Look at them 
a moment. 

As the basis of the system you have a Redeemer, 
whose sufferings stand accepted as the substitute for 
the eternal damnation of as many as may choose to 
make him their hiding-place. Then, as the first-fruits 
of those sufferings, every child of Adam is held to be 
as guiltless at birth as though it had descended from 



VOICES OF DUTY. 237 

sinless ancestors : to counteract that tendency to sin- 
ful self-indulgence which every child inherits, there is 
given to it, not an actually regenerated nature, but 
the presence of the Holy Spirit, seeking, in conjunc- 
tion with its spiritual educators, to beget in it that 
affection for God which is the essence and principle of 
the regenerated life ; to give long opportunity of being 
saved to those who waywardly resist "the grace of 
God which bringeth salvation," and contract the guilt 
of manifold sins, provision is made in Christ for the 
pardon of " many offenses ;" to render this provision 
operative, there is a Divine revelation to instruct; a 
living ministry and a visible Church to proclaim the 
truth ; a gracious influence from the Holy Spirit di- 
rectly exercised upon the soul of the sinner, opening 
the eyes of his understanding, quickening his con- 
science, appealing to his affections, pressing, without 
forcing, his will, and infusing moral strength in every 
moment of awakened spiritual desire. Moreover, the 
conditions on which the great salvation is suspended 
are of the simplest character, and, with the spiritual 
help offered, the easiest of which the mind can con- 
ceive. They are not arbitrary^ but necessary in them- 
selves, How could guilt be pardoned without peni- 



238 PLEASAKT PATHWAYS. 

tence 1 How could love be born and communion 
enjoyed without faith ? Indeed it is difficult to conceive 
how God could have done more or required less for 
human salvation than he has in the Gospel of his 
Son. Well might the apostle exclaim: "Behold 
what mamier of love the Father hath bestowed 
upon us !" 

Say, therefore, thoughtful youth, does not this rev- 
elation of your Divine Benefactor, in the relation of 
Saviour and Eedeemer, impose new obligations on 
you to love and serve him? If, as your owner and 
henefactoi\ his claims to your grateful service were 
Id disputable and inextinguishable, what can you say 
to his right in you as your Redeemer? If ingratitude 
to a benefactor be infamous ; if to deprive an owner 
of his right to control his property be robbery, by 
what epithet shall I designate the rejection of a Sav- 
iour^s claims, the trampling under foot of a Re- 
deemer'^ s rights ? It is a sin for which human language 
refuses to furnish a name ; it is a monstrous combina- 
tion of all that is vile in every other form of sin ; it 
is the only sin for which souls are daroned. " He 
that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the 
wrath of God abideth upon him." 



VOICES OF DUTY. 239 

Come, then, thou creature of the Most High, thou 
helpless dependant upon thy Divme Benefactor, thou 
redeemed one, cast thyself at the feet of thy Lord, 
because he is thy Lord, thy Benefactor, and thy 
Redeemer ! Because it is your duty, and not merely 
because your happiness requires it, give God your 
heart ! You owe him service ; render it because you 
owe it. You owe him gratitude ; let your heart yield 
it because it is his right to claim it. You owe him 
your highest love, therefore place your heart in his 
willing hands, and " love him, because he has loved 
you." Bind yourself to him with chains of penitence, 
faith, and love, for the sake of what he is in himself, 
and not merely because his service will produce your 
highest happiness. 

It is related of a certain monk that he once lighted 
upon an ancient chapel in a lonely forest. He entered 
it, and found its walls bare, and its stone altar crumb- 
ling with age and covered with mold. As his curi- 
ous eyes scanned the pointed arches, they were 
arrested by a quaint-looking window above the altar, 
which, in the gloom, looked as if some unpracticed 
hand had smeared it with red paint. After gazing 
upon it a few moments the old man spoke and said : 



240 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

" Fy ! a blind man could paint as well with soot 
and blood. That daub is as meaningless as chaos." 

The words had scarcely left his lips before the de- 
scending sun, bursting from an envious cloud, poured 
a flood of radiance upon the window. Thus lighted, 
what had seemed a daub in the previous gloom, re- 
solved itself into a splendid painting. There, in life- 
like form, was Moses and the burning bush, with the 
stern rocks of Sinai and the snowy flocks of the noble 
shepherd quietly grazing on its rugged sides. The 
monk looked on the painted glass with wonder, and 
exclaimed : 

" Ha ! what a light ! It has changed that motley 
stain to the product of a master artist's hand." 

Now it may be, my reader, that my feeble attempts 
to portray the beauty of the Divine character have 
been to you as that painting was to the dim-eyed 
monk, while as yet the sun was clouded. Possibly 
you have never yet been impressed and thrilled by 
clear perceptions of the moral beauty, the peerless 
loveliness, of the moral nature of God. Like the 
wicked Jews, you see neither form nor comeliness in 
the manifestations which your Benefactor has made of 
himself If this be so, let my illustration teach you that 



VOICES OF DUTY. 241 

the fault is all in yourself. God is the perfection of 
beauty, the concentration of all moral loveliness. To 
see him thus you must study him as he is portrayed 
in his word. Let that book be to you what the 
church window was to the monk. Look into it with 
the teachable spirit of a little child, with unquestioning 
belief of its statements, with desire to discover the 
glory and excellency of its Author. Look thus con- 
stantly, patiently, earnestly, and it will not be long 
before the Sun of Righteousness will shed a flood of 
glorious light upon it. Then you will see the Divine 
character in such lovely aspects as will fill you with 
rapturous desire, and enable you to say with the 
Psalmist, " My heart and my flesh crieth out for the 
living God ;" and with the poet : 

" Ever famting with desire, 

For thee, Christ, I call ; 
Thee I restlessly require ; 

I want my God, my all." 

With such views and such desires you will be pre- 
pared to love and serve God for the sake of what he 
is in himself^ and because he is Creator, Owner, Ben- 
efactor, and Redeemer to you, his dependent, help- 
less, sinful creature. I do not say you will cease 
16 



242 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

to be iDfluenced by the fact that godliness is, as I have 
sho\\ai, prDductive of your personal happiness ; for it 
is only through his beneficent provisions for your 
happiness that you can attain to those perceptions of 
the loveliness of his character which can enrapture 
and captivate your affections. But I do affirm that 
the nearer you get to God the clearer and more far- 
seeing your visions of his moral perfections become, 
the less you will think of yourself, and the more 
powerfully you will be attracted by his beauty. 

What more need be said ? If piety be a river of 
perpetual happiness, invigorating the soul in its moral 
conflicts, refreshing it in its hours of weariness, sol- 
acing it in its days of gloom, satisfymg its immortal 
thirstings, and fitting it for heavenly felicity ; if its 
demands are the rights of God and your duties ; if 
without it you must be eternally separated from God, 
and from all enjoyment, and doomed to suffer un- 
speakable woe, then, surely, the array of motives is 
perfect. Self-love and duty speak one language, and 
urge you to say to God, "My Father, from this time 
thou shalt be the guide of my youth." 

Listen, then, I beseech you, to the voices of grati- 
tude, love, and duty. By all that is sacred in your 



VOICES OF DUTY. 243 

obligations to God ; by all that is lovely in the Divine 
character ; by all that is commanding in the authority 
and terrible in the justice of the Almighty ; by all 
that is desirable in heaven and dreadful in hell ; by 
the curses of the law ; by the love, the sufferings, the 
tears, the blood of your long-neglected, despised, but 
faithful and patient Redeemer, I entreat you, beloved 
youth, to begin a life of piety this moment. Now in- 
quire, with all the earnestness of which you are capable, 
"What shall I do to be saved?" Now pray with 
good old Francis Quarles, and say : 

" Eternal God ! thou that only art 

The sacred fountain of eternal light, 
And blessed loadstone of my better part ; 

thou, my heart's desire, my soul's dehght ! 
Eeflect upon my soul, and touch my heart, 

And then my heart shall prize no good above thee ; 
And then my soul shall know thee ; knowing, love thee ; 

And then my trembling thoughts shall never start 
From thy commands, or swerve the least degree, 

Or once presume to move, but as they move in thee." 



244 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 



CHAPTEE XII. 

WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAYED? 

More than a century ago a little orphan boy, 
scarcely seven years old, stood on a slight eminence, 
from which a lovely landscape met his eye. Broad 
fields of waving grain, extensive pastures stocked 
with fine breeds of cattle, a magnificent park with its 
herds of antlered deer quietly feeding in the shade of 
venerable oaks and elms which have withstood the 
storms of centuries, a cosy old manor-house, and a 
picturesque village with its thatched cottages and old 
stone church draped in ivy, were all included in the 
scene before him. Long and pensively did that boy 
gaze on this delightful spot of rural beauty, for he 
had heard his grandfather say that all those broad 
lands once belonged to his ancestors. But they had 
passed into the hands of strangers. His parents 
were dead. His grandfather was old and poor, and 
there was little in his life-prospects to awaken the 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 245 

voices of hope within his childish bosom. No wonder 
the thoughtful boy felt sad. 

Presently, however, his tearful eye grew bright. 
His graceful little form stood erect and dignified. 
He trod the soil proudly and firmly. His whole 
person and manner showed that a great purpose was 
being born within him. He was resolving to become 
the master of that great estate ! 

From that moment the boy's character acquired 
fresh strength. That resolution beamed like a star 
upon his path and cheered him in every struggle. On 
he pressed through poverty, toil, discouragement, and 
trial. In every moment of despondency his resolu- 
tion spurred him to renewed effort. Gradually at 
first, and rapidly at length, he acquired wealth and 
power, until he, the noted "Warren Hastings, be- 
came governor-general of India, and owner of Dayles- 
ford manor, his ancestral seat. He achieved his 
purpose. 

Eesolution is the parent of action. Hence, as 
young Warren Hastings resolved to recover the 
estate of his ancestors, so must you, my reader, 
firmly resolve to seek your soul's conversion before 
you can be saved. To this resolution I entreat you 



246 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

to come at once. Having in tlie previous chapters 
spread the facts and motives before you on which 
such a resolution must be based, I beg you to reduce 
the impressions you have received to a definite and 
operative purpose. Let me give you an example. 

A gentleman, who was a magistrate and possessed 
great personal influence, was strongly urged, one 
evening, by his pious wife, to seek his soul's conver- 
sion at once. He listened long, without making a re- 
mark. At length he calmly replied, " I will !" 

He spent much of that night in sober meditation. 
The next morning he was bowed down under a pro- 
found sense of guilt. Eeflection on the past, aided by 
the Holy Spirit, had brought his conscience into a 
state of activity, and the depths of his nature were 
stirred with sorrow for sin. 

At nine o'clock he started for a protracted meeting 
then being held a mile or two from his abode. On 
the way he prevailed on four of his friends — two ' 
lawyers, a brother magistrate, and a physician — to 
accompany him. Before reaching the church they 
paused at the residence of a judge, who was busy on 
his farm. " Judge," said the awakened man, " I am 
determmed to seek the salvation of my soul. I have 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 247 

persuaded these, my neighbors, to accompany me. 
Come, lay aside your plow, and go along to meeting." 

Tlie judge remained silent awhile, then, looking at 
his friend, he said, " I will !" 

The whole party proceeded to church. After the 
sermon they attended the inquiry meeting. The re- 
sult was, that all but one of that party, in a short 
time, received the forgiveness of sins. The gentle- 
man himself had a longer struggle before finding 
peace than either of his friends ; but he persevered, 
and after a whole night spent in prayer, the grace of 
God burst like sunshine upon his heart, and he went 
on his way rejoicing. 

I commend this resolute man's example to you, im- 
mortal youth. He started without much feeling. A 
clear intellectual perception of duty, such as you pos- 
sess, led him to say irrevocably, "/ will seek God 
NOW !" Acting under the guidance of that stern voli- 
tion, he began at once to turn his thoughts to the con- 
sideration of his past life, of his relations to God, of 
his duty and destiny. That consideration gave birth 
to penitential emotion, for by it he turned his face 
toward God, whose Spirit at once shone upon his 
inmost nature and. melted all its hardness into sorrow, 



248 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

as the sun melts the ice and snow of whiter into 
streams of running water. 

Now all this is possible with you. Your heart 
may be as cold and hard as a polar iceberg. It may 
be as barren of good desires as a desert is of fruit or 
flower. All its feelings may be concentrated in one 
absorbing consciousness of aversion against a religious 
life, nevertheless you can — such is the liberty of your 
will, aided as it is by the grace which brmgeth salva- 
tion — you can now resolve, as that magistrate did, 
from a simple sense of duty, that you will seek to 
become a Christian. I appeal to your consciousness 
of power. Do you or do you not feel able to make 
that resolve 1 "I do," is the instinctive response of 
your nature. 

Yes, I know you do. And I also know that in this 
critical moment of your life, while all that is carnal 
within you shrinks with aversion from the decisive 
act, there is also a secret monitor whispering in the 
ear of your immortal spirit, and gently stimulating 
you to do it. That whisper is divine. It is the voice 
of the Eternal Spirit. It is Christ's latest voice of 
love. It is heaven's pledge to you, that if you will 
do violence to the aversion of your carnal mind by 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 249 

resolving to repent, you shall not be left to wage the 
mighty warfare alone. It is God, the ever faithful 
and true, saying, " Let the wicked forsake his way, 
and the unrighteous naan his thoughts; and let him 
return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon 
him ; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." 
Heed it, O precious youth ! Heed that voice of 
power. Make the decisive resolution now. Here it 
is. Eead it : 

By the grace of God I will this instant seek 

THE SALVATION OF MY SOUL. 

Signed, 

Concentrate all the energy of your will into this 
great purpose. Let it be final, irreversible. Having 
formed it, set your name to it, and consider the ques- 
tion settled. Your back is upon the world, your face 
is heavenward. Henceforth you are to be a pilgrim 
to the city of Jesus. 

Thank God! thank God! Let there be joy in 
the presence of the angels. Another soul has taken 
its first step in the pleasant pathway — another soul 
has turned its imploring glance toward the mercy-seat 
of God. For this let there be joy in heaven. It will 



250 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

not be long before there will be peace in the troubled 
breast of the seeker. 

Now, my fellow-sinner, having made this solemn 
purpose, you must study yourself with introspective 
eye. But let me lead you to the only spot on earth 
where such a study can result in softening your heart. 
I mean to Calvary. Talk your meditations in whis- 
pered words addressed to the dying lover of souls. 
Look up ! See that pale, blood-stained face ! Majestic 
sweetness, amid all its traceries of woe, is written 
upon it. Behold it ! That sufferer is making atone- 
ment for your sins. The pams which rend him, and 
the death he is dying, are the substitutes which your 
offended Creator has covenanted to accept, whenever 
you become a believer, instead of that eternal anguish 
which is the proper punishment of the sins you have 
committed. Love for you, therefore, sent him on 
his mission of suffering. Love for you sustains him 
in its endurance. " Behold the Lamb of God !" the 
"propitiation" for your sins, and while beholding 
meditate. 

Your past life, what has it been ? Rays of softest 
light beamed from that cross on your infant foot- 
steps. Streams of richest benefactions have ever 



I 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 251 

flowed from that opened side along the paths of your 
childhood and youth. Christian parents, pious teach- 
ers, an open Bible, freedom to worship God, a faith- 
fully preached Gospel, voices of admonition from 
human lips and from the Divine Spirit, restraining 
grace, protective providences, blessings of the earth 
beneath and blessings of the heavens above, divine 
forbearance, patient long-suffering, with innumerable 
other mercies, have been freely lavished upon you 
in answer to his pleadings. 

What returns have you made ? Have you consult- 
ed your Divine benefactor respecting the use of his 
gifts ? Rather, have you not received and expended 
his benefactions without the least regard to his will ? 
Though an absolute pauper in your Creator's house- 
hold, have you not used his favors with the independ- 
ence of a sovereign? Has one grateful acknowledg- 
ment, one truly loving aspiration for his approval, 
ever burned on your selfish heart ? Living in your- 
self and for yourself, have you not despised his 
authority and been a rebellious child ? Besides leav- 
ing undone the duties he commanded, have you not 
done daily, hourly, in unnumbered instances, the 
things he has forbidden? Take his holy command- 



252 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

merits and see if you have not, either in spirit or 
letter, broken them all ? Instead of taking him for 
your one God, and loving him with all your heart, 
have you not had gods many and lords many ? Have 
you not often spoken his name vainly, if not, indeed, 
profanely ? Have you not broken his Sabbaths, dis- 
obeyed your parents, and, by cherishing hatred, been 
guilty of murder in your heart ? By indulging lust- 
ful desires — and it may be by actual personal pollu- 
tion — have you not trampled on the law which for- 
bids adultery? Has no act of fraud, such as dishonest 
bankruptcy, fraudulent dealing, or downright theft, 
arrayed the eighth commandment against you ? Has 
not a lie often defiled your lips, and covetousness 
your mind ? To which then of the ten commandments 
can you plead, " I am not guilty ?" Alas for you ! 
your past life is covered with transgression. It is 
wi'itten all over with rebellion, self indulgence, pride, 
ingratitude, and sins of every hue. "Is not thy wicked- 
ness great ^"""^ and are not " thine iniquities infinite V' 

Drag this black past into the light. View it on 
every side. Count, if you can, the number of your 
transgressions. Ascertain their turpitude. Eemem- 
ber that they have been committed against Him 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 253 

whom you saw bleeding on the cross for you and 
such as you. See how sadly he gazes at you while 
all his bleeding wounds are saying, " Soul ! soul ! 
why sinnest thou against thy Redeemer and friend ?" 
Consider, also, that your long resistance to the 
pleadings of Christ's precious love affords conclusive 
proof of the exceeding wickedness of your heart. 
You strongly resemble a youth who fell into the 
snares of dissipation, and fled to a distant city that he 
might indulge in folly without rebuke. Anxious for 
his welfare, his father sent an only brother to woo 
him back to home and virtue. The brother was 
repelled with rudeness. His sister was next sent, 
but he turned away unmoved from her pure words of 
love. His patriarchal father then tried the power of 
paternal persuasion, but even his gray hairs and 
breaking heart failed to melt the stubborn youth. 
Last of all, his venerable mother, trembling with age 
and infirmities, traveled to his haunts, and besought 
him, with all the touching pathos of maternal love, to 
forsake his vices and return to the happy home he 
had abandoned. Vainly she pleaded, for even his 
mother's tears had no power to charm him from his 
darling vices. 



254 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

Now tell me frankly, my dear reader, which part 
of this youth's conduct most clearly proves his 
depravity, his first dissipations or his persistent re- 
sistance to the wooings of his family ? 

His persistent resistance ? You answer truly, and 
by so doing comdct yourself of wickedness as deeply 
rooted as your inmost nature, and as vile as ever 
stained a human soul ; for as that youth resisted 
every effort of parental and fraternal love, so have 
you, through all the years of your life, resisted all 
the efforts of Divine love to win your heart to right- 
eousness. In vain have voices of parental love, of 
teachers and pastors, of the inspired book, of your 
own consciences, of the Holy Spirit, and of the 
interceding Saviour entreated you. In vain have the 
love of God and the tears of Jesus, the terrors of 
justice and the gifts of mercy, made their appeals to 
your wicked heart. You have steadfastly resisted 
them all. If, therefore, unconquerable resistance to 
redeeming efforts is the strongest proof of inveterate 
wickedness, you must be wicked indeed. You may 
not have the blot of open immorality staining your 
life, but you have shown an aversion to God as 
strong as that which rules the heart of the vilest 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 255 

wretch, who walks the earth ! Indeed, I know not 
but that your aversion is stronger than his, for he has 
rioted in sin away from Gospel influences, while you 
have sinned in sight of Calvary ! Had he enjoyed 
one half the sweet influences which have crowned 
your life, possibly he would have repented long ago. 
But you ! You have lived an irreligious life in the 
very ante-chamber of the Divine presence; you have 
resisted the uttermost eflbrts of Divine compassion. 
" Is not your wickedness great V 

Shrink not from these painful views of yourself, 
precious soul, but drag all your sinfulness ' to the 
light. Confess it all to Him who was " bruised" for 
your ^' iniquities." Acknowledge all you transgres- 
sions. Make no excuses. Palliate no act of your 
life • but, gazing at the- cross, abase, yourself, cry- 
ing with the publican, " God be merciful to me a 
sinner," and with the prodigal, "Father, I have 
sinned." 

These meditations and confessions will bring the 
Holy Spirit nearer to you, who will make your 
understanding light, your heart soft, unsealing all 
the springs of penitence within you, and enabling 
you to say with the poet : 



256 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

" Awaked from sin's delusive sleep, 
My heavy guilt I feel, and weep ; 
Beneath a weight of woes oppressed, 
I come to thee, my Lord, for rest." 

It may be, however, that these purposes, medita- 
tions, and confessions will fail to melt your heart. 
Burdened, tempest-tossed, dark, without tender feeling, 
and full of unbelief, you may make no seeming prog- 
ress. If this be so, despair not. The cloud lowers 
around the cross only because you are clinging to some 
sin which you are not willing to give up at the com- 
mand of Christ. You may be but dimly conscious of 
this unwillingness. To test yourself put up this prayer: 

" What is it keeps me back, 

From which I cannot part — 
Which will not let the Saviour take 
^ Possession of my heart ? 

Searcher of hearts, in mine 

Thy trying power display ; 
Into its darkest comers shine, 

And take the vail away." 

That you may know the mind of God respecting 
your favorite sins, consider these words: "If the 
wicked restore the pledge, give again that he had 
robbed^ walk in the statutes of life without committing 
iniquity^ he shall surely live, he shall not die." 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 257 

This passage is a torch lighted at the altar of 
God's purity. Hold it up in your heart, and learn 
that if you would approach God acceptably, you 
must make no secret mental compromise with 
sin. If you have ever wronged any man by 

CHEATING, BY THEFT, OR BY BANKRUPTCY, YOU MUST 

MAKE RESTITUTION — '^ give again that he had robbed;'''^ 
if you are in a sinful business, such as rum-selling, 
trading or working on the Sabbath, slaveholding, 
slave-trading, grinding the poor by oppressive wages, 
or any other practice which violates the laws of God 
or man, you must unconditionally, and at once, 
abandon it, or you cannot find that Divine favor 
which is conditioned on your consent " to walk in the 
statutes of life without committing iniquity." You 
may mentally spare some profitable sin, and may so 
persuade your conscience into a compromise with it, 
as to patch up a spurious peace with God and become 
a member of the Church ; but such repentance, and 
such peace will not stand when God maketh in- 
quisition for sin. His righteous arm will tear 
away your mask in that terrible day, and after 
revealing your hideous deformities, he will say : "/ 
never knevj you ; deimrt from me^ ye that work 
17 



258 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 






INIQUITY." Eemember that all repentance is spu- 
rious which does not lead you to give up every 
known sin. 

That you may see how the Spirit of God teaches 
truly awakened souls, I will submit three pertinent 
facts. The first relates to the duty of restitution, 

A gentleman once saw a captain, with whom he 
was about to sail as a passenger, carelessly throw a 
bag of dollars on a locker. By way of alarming the 
captain, the gentleman hid the money. It happened 
that in the hurry of leaving port the reception of the 
bag of dollars entirely faded from the captain's 
recollection, and the gentleman carried it ashore, 
intending to return it when it should be missed. 
But months passed before inquiry was made, and 
then the gentleman, fearing lest his honesty should 
be questioned, purposely secreted the money. Mean- 
while the captain was sued for the amount, and im- 
prisoned. Confinement and vexation killed him, and 
his wife and children were left penniless. 

The hand of God now touched the gentleman and 
he became fatally sick. The voice of God alarmed his 
conscience. Hell gat hold upon his spirit. He sent 
for Dr. Adam Clarke, and guided by his spiritual 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 259 

counsels, earnestly sought pardon and peace. But he 
sought in vain. Prayers, tears, and sorrow brought 
no comfort to his tormented soul. At length, being 
closely questioned by Dr. Clarke, he confessed his 
theft of the bag of dollars. 

" Yoic must make restitution ^ said that holy man. 
"You can restore the money, and redeem the dead 
man's memory from inflimy !" 

The dying man consented, and restored the money 
with compound interest. Then his prayers were 
heard, and his long agonized spirit soon found rest 
in Jesus. 

Penitent reader, have you ever -wronged any man 
of his property '? Have the wages of unrighteousness 
ever defiled your conscience ? If so, you must " give 
again what you have robbed," or make up your 
mind to be shut out of that heaven into which 
" there shall in no wise enter anything that defileth!''' 
Be not deceived. " God is not mocked." He who is 
not willing to make restitution to the utmost of his 
ability, is not truly sorry for having perpetrated 
the injustice which he is required, as far as possible, 
to undo. 

My second fact relates to the sin of slaveholding, 



260 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

and is taken from the life of that spiritual hero, 
Freeborn Garrettson. A few hours after his con- 
version a strange and terrible darkness overspread 
his spirit. He was in agony, though he knew not 
why. At length, while conducting family prayer, 
God showed him his reason for hiding his face. As 
he was reading a hymn this thought powerfully struck 
his mind : 

" It is not right for you to keep your fellow- 
creatures in bondage; you must let the oppressed 
go free !" 

Mr. Garrettson had never heard slaveholding con- 
demned until that moment. He had never read a 
book on the subject, but his conscience at once recog- 
nized the Divine authority of that powerful thought. 
He paused a moment. Being thoroughly in earnest, 
he only wished to know what God willed. Satisfied 
on this point, he exclaimed : 

" Lord, the oppressed shall go free !" 

Having formed this hallowed purpose, he at once 
said to his slaves : " You do not belong to me. I do 
not desire your services without making you a com- 
pensation." Speaking of the effect of this act of just- 
ice on his own heart, he says : 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 261 

" All tolJ dejection, and that melancholy gloom 
which preyed upon me, vanished in a moment, and a 
divine sweetness ran through my whole frame 1" 

Penitent reader, are you a slaveholder ? Protected 
by impious laws, are you holding immortal, responsi- 
ble, and naturally free-born men, women, and chil- 
dren in the condition of personal chattels ? Are you 
rearing the purchase of the Redeemer's blood as you 
rear cattle, for your own personal comfort and profit 1 
If so, "I have a message from God unto thee." Here 
it is. Speaking to those who affect to repent without 
giving up their sins, God says : " Is not this the fast 
that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, 
to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed 
go free, and that ye break every yoke?" "Then 
shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine 
health shall spring forth speedily." 

My third fact relates to a distiller, who was power- 
fully awakened while at a religious assembly away 
from home. Like a flash of lightning a conviction 
of the sinfulness of his business gleamed upon his 
heart. Speaking to himself, he said : 

" If I seek religion I must give up my distillery. 
If I give that up I shall beggar my family. If I do 



262 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

not seek religion I can make a good living, but my 
soul must go to hell !" 

After weighing the momentous question in his 
heart, and carefully counting the cost of the act, he 
went to the altar and put up this simple prayer : 

" Lord, I will trust my family to thy care and seek 
the salvation of my soul. O Lord, I have built a 
still-house which I know I must give up before thou 
wilt pardon my sins, but I want the pardon of my 
sins to-night, for before to-morrow I naay be dead. 
Lord, if thou wilt trust me, and for the sake of thy 
Son's death forgive my sins to-night, I will go home 
to-morrow morning, if spared, and knock every tub 
to staves, throw out the still, and never make an- 
other drop of liquor!" 

That prayer was answered, and the peace which is 
more precious than money came into his soul. As 
he afterward remarked, " God saw my sincerity and 
converted my soul on credit." The still was de- 
stroyed. The man found ample compensation for his 
pecuniary sacrifices in the consciousness of duty per- 
formed and in the smile of his Creator. And so do all 
who, like him, follow the teachings of Christ and enter 
the gate of regeneration, casting away their former sins. 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 263 

What say you to tliis, penitent soul'? If engaged 
in any sinful business will you obey God, or, con- 
sulting your present gains only, will you follow cor- 
rupt popular example and your own selfish impulses? 
If the latter is your deliberate purpose, I have only 
to say that " whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he 
also reap." If you will sow to the flesh you must be 
content to " reap corruption." But, believe me, cor- 
ruption is a shocking crop to harvest. But if your 
purpose is to keep the " statutes of life," then shall 
" thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as 
the noonday." 

Do you still hesitate to decide between the profits 
of sm and the favor of God? Like a bird hopping 
between two twigs, are you yet in doubt as to w^hich 
you will choose ? O shameful indecision ! Are vir- 
tue, happiness, heaven, and God so light in your 
esteem that they cannot weigh down the profits of 
sin? Let the conduct of a noble heathen bring a 
blush to your cheeks and put an end to such un- 
worthy indecision. 

When the Macedonian Pyrrhus w^as negotiating a 
treaty with Fabricius the Roman general, he offered 
to make that heroic man richer than the richest man 



264 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

in Rome, provided he would promise to influence the 
Roman senate in favor of his plans. Fabricius, who 
was as poor as he was brave, instantly replied : 

" My little field, poor and unfertile as it is, supplies 
me with all that nature requires. If riches had been 
my ambition, I could have amassed great sums from 
the spoils of those enemies of Rome whom I have 
conquered. After this, would it now become me to 
accept the gold and silver you ofler me? What 
example should I set the citizens of Rome? How 
could I bear even their looks at my return? You 
shall then, if you please, keep your riches to your- 
self, and I will keep my poverty and my reputation!" 

Incorruptible Fabricius ! He counted his honor 
worth more than much gold. The treasures of a 
king could not kindle in his noble nature even a de- 
sire to swerve from his duty to his country. Beside 
his nobility of soul, how mean your hesitation to 
choose between the profits of a sinful business and 
your duty to God appears ! Cursed be that lust of 
gold which keeps you from the cross of Christ! 
What will those sin^stained profits avail when your 
soul is lost ? Will they not follow you, woven into 
a poisoned garment, and like the shirt of Nessus on 



WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 265 

the back of Hercules, torment you with unspeakable 
pain forever 1 Be resolute, therefore, and in the spirit 
of the distiller and of Freeborn Garrettson, for your 
soul's sake, yield every sinful pursuit with all its 
accursed profits, and God will give you a '' hundred- 
fold " in this world, and you " shall inherit everlast- 
ing life." 

Assuming that you are purposed to give up all 
participation in sinful practices or in sinful business, 
however profitable, I advise you to believe in the 
Lord Jesus Christ. Being sorry for sin, and will- 
ing to forsake it, there is nothing more required of 
you but to believe. You may not be able to shed 
many tears ; that depends very much on the peculiar- 
ity of your mental constitution ; yet I say unto you, 
" Behold the Lamb of God." God sets more value 
on a single sincere purpose to forsake sin, or one 
hour's actual abandonment of wrong-doing, than he 
would on an Atlantic of tears if you were able to 
weep them. Look not, then, at your tears nor at 
your feelings, but at your regrets and purposes. 
Are you sorry that you have sinned? Do you 
truly regret that you have so long lived in the 
habit of resisting the grace of Christ? Are you 



266 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

resolved to "go and sin no more?" If so, "be- 
lieve on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be 
saved." Send up your imploring cry to heaven, 
saying : 

" Jesus, Lord, my heart will break, 
Save me for thy great love's sake." 

For explanations and illustrations of saving faith 
you may consult the following chapter. 



THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 267 



CHAPTER Xni. 

THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 

In the hall of an emperor's palace a trembling girl 
once cast herself at the monarch's feet and said : 

" Pardon, sire ! pardon for my father !" 

" Who is your father ?" inquired Napoleon ; " and 
who are you ?" 

"I am Miss Lajolais, and, sire, my father is 
doomed to die!" 

" Ah, young lady," replied Napoleon, " I can do 
nothing for you. This is the second time your father 
has conspired against the state. It is just that he 
should die !" 

"Alas!" cried the girl, weeping bitterly; "I know 
it, sire; but the first time papa was innocent. To- 
day I do not ask for justice- — I implore pardon, par- 
don for my father !" 

The emperor's lips trembled and his piercing eyes 
filled with tears. Recovering himself, he gave the 



268 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

maiden his hand and said : " Wellj my child, for your 
sake I will pardon your father !" 

Not justice but pardon! That is precisely what 
you need at the hands of God, penitent youth ! Jus- 
tice would consign you to devouring flames. You 
need, not justice — but pardon. 

You also need a renewed heart. Without that, if 
pardoned, you would go on siiming as before. But 
your heavenly Father has provided for that necessity. 
In the moment of your pardon the Holy Spirit will 
"shed the love of God abroad" in your heart. That 
love is the principle of regeneration, the vital element 
of a new life, by means of which you will possess 
both disposition and ability to keep the command- 
ments of God. 

Pardon, therefore, is the great gift which you are 
to seek. And pardon is promised to all them that 
believe on the name of Jesus. "Whosoever be- 
lieveth in him shall receive remission of sin." What, 
then, is that faith by which you are to obtain pardon ? 
The following illustration will make it plain. 

Through twelve weary years a poor woman had 
been the victim of a wasting disease. She had made 
herself penniless by her outlays in searching for 



THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 269 

health. The most skillful physicians had pronounced 
her incurable, and despair had built its throne in her 
heart. 

But one day there came into her city a man whose 
fame had spread over all the land. He had healed 
multitudes of sick. He had never failed to cure the 
most stubborn case of disease. He had even raised 
the dead, and commanded the powers of nature like a 
God. Hearing of his arrival the woman's hopes re- 
vived again. "He has cured others," she thought, 
" he can cure me. He has never refused to put forth 
his power, he will therefore put it forth for me. If I 
can but see him I shall be cured !" 

Thus believing in the power and love of Jesus, she 
sought him in the crowded street. Feeble but reso- 
lute, she edged her way through the living mass. 
But after using her utmost effort she could only get 
behind him, but not so as to catch his eye or ear. 
Then she said in her heart, "I will touch the border 
of his garment and that will be sufficient to heal me." 
Forcing her arm between the persons who stood next 
to the Saviour, she touched the border of his garment, 
expecting to feel the tides of returning health flow 
through her wasted form at once. And it was so. 



270 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

In that moment a delightful consciousness of perfect 
health awoke within her. The suffering invalid was 
suddenly transformed mto a healthy and ^dgorous 
woman. 

Jesus, whose omniscient eye read all that passed in 
her heart, set his seal on this woman's faith, when, 
turnmg to her, he confirmed her cure by saying, 
" Daughter, be of good comfort ; thy faith hath made 
thee whole ; go in peace." Her faith may therefore 
be safely regarded as an example of that faith by 
which we are saved. 

If you will review the history of this woman's case 
you will see (1.) that she despaired of recovery from 
any other source mthin or without herself; (2.) that 
she believed most implicitly in the love and power 
of Jesus ; and (3.) that, firmly relying m her heart 
upon his power and love, she touched him, expecting 
an instant cure. 

Such is the faith which brings pardon to a penitent 
dinner's heart. Like the woman, he approaches 
Christ, abandoning all trust in his o^^t.i righteousness, 
and firmly believing that God, faithful to his prom- 
ises, will pardon all who come to him in the name of 
Qirist. Then, still following her example, he fixes 



THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 271 

his mental eye on Jesus, the mediator, and touching 
the border of his garment, says in his heart : " I take 
thee, O Christ, to be my Saviour. I trust in thy 
blood as the substitute for my eternal punishment. 1 
rely on thy death for pardon. I am thy redeemed 
one. Thou art my Saviour. Thy blood prevails. It 
washes all my sins av^ay." Thus leaning steadfastly 
on Christ, expecting instant peace, the penitent be- 
comes suddenly conscious of a sweet calm stealing 
over his conscience. His previous depression floats 
away like the morning mist. A strange warmth is 
begotten in his heart. Christ becomes unspeakably 
precious to him, and he feels an inward prompting to 
look to God and fondly cry, "Abba, Father! my 
Lord, my God, my Redeemer !" " Being justified, he 
has jpeace with God through Jesus Christ." 

This is faith, sa^dng faith. It is very easy, very 
simple, to the tra^j cor^trite who cease all vain reason- 
ings and, like the feeble invalid, make it their single 
purpose to touch the Saviour's garment and rely 
upon his love. Nevertheless, since unbelief is often 
very stubborn, I will further illustrate the nature of 
the faith which saves us. 

In the highlands of Scotland there is a mountain* 



272 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

gorge twenty feet in width and two hundred feet in 
depth. Its perpendicular walls are bare of vegetation 
save in their crevices, in which grow numerous wild 
flowers of rare beauty. Desirous of obtaining speci- 
mens of these mountain beauties, some scientific tour- 
ists once offered a Highland boy a handsome gift if he 
would consent to be lowered down the cliff by a rope, 
and would gather a little basketful for them. The boy 
looked wishfully at the money, for his parents were 
poor ; but when he gazed at the yawning chasm he 
shuddered, shrunk back, and declined. But filial love 
was strong within him, and after another glance at the 
gift and at the terrible fissure, his heart grew strong, 
his eyes flashed, and he said : 

" I'll go if my father will hold the rope /" 
And then, with unshrinking nerves, cheek un- 
blanched, and heart firmly strong, he suffered his 
father to put the rope about him, lower him into 
that wild abyss, and to suspend him there while he 
filled his little basket with the coveted flowers. It 
was a daring deed, but his faith in the strength of his 
father's arm and in the love of his father's heart gave 
him courage to attempt and power to perform it. 
' This bov's trust is a beautiful illustration of the 



I 



THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 273 

faith which saves the soul ; for as he put himself into 
his father's hands to be hound with the rope and low- 
ered down the gorge to pluck the coveted flowers, so 
must you put yourself into Christ's hands to be par- 
doned. Binding yourself with the promises of God's 
mercy, you must give yourself into Christ's hands to 
be lowered into that depth of self-abasement where 
grows in peerless beauty the sweet flower of forgive- 
ness. And when your feet are removed from all 
human grounds of hope, when all consciousness of 
self-righteousness is gone from within you, then, as 
that boy found courage, and peace, and strength 
in thinkmg, "My father knows this rope is strong; 
my father is able to hold it ; my father loves me too 
well to let me fall," so will you find pardon, peace, 
and power in thinking, " My Father in heaven will not 
break this promise of mercy with which I have bound 
myself to him. He holds it in his hands. He loves 
me. He will not let his promise go. He saves me 
for Christ's sake!" 

Try this faith, penitent youth, and it will save thee 
as surely as that boy's father held him firmly and 
drew him safely from the mountain gorge. 

A little girl who once heard this incident related 
18 



274 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

as an illustration of faith, perceived the truth it ex-« 
plained, and found peace in believing. She was a deli- 
cate child, a pale mountain-flower, and soon drooped 
before the rude blasts which swept the hills among 
which she dwelt. She drew near the gates of death, 
and with smiles of seraphic sweetness awaited their 
opening. Loving ejes are fixed upon her as she 
reaches the moment of departure. When lo ! they 
see her thin white arms spread out as if in search of 
something. 

" What are you feeling after, my child ?" tenderly 
inquires her weeping mother. 

"I am feeling for the rope — the rope which Jesus 
holds. I've got it now. He is pulling! I am go- 
ing !" is her beautiful reply. 

Her hands close. An angelic smile plays upon her 
thin lips, a shout of rapturous joy breaks from her 
tongue, and she is gone. Fastened to the rope that 
Jesus holds, she is lifted into heaven ! 

How simple was that child's trusj. Yet it was the 
faith that saves. God's promise to save " whosoever 
believeth" is the rope which Jesus holds. You have 
but to bind it about you by a mental act, to lie 
calmly recumbent upon it, saying : " This is Christ's 



THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 275 

promise sealed with his blood. He ^yill not break it. 
He will keep it. He will raise me out of this pit of 
gloomy guilt, and place my feet upon a rock. He is 
pulling it now! I am pardoned!" and you will 
surely find mercy. The tempest in your heart will 
be hushedj and your quieted soul will be calm as 
heaven. 

Take another illustration. A pious king was once 
taken sick. A prophet was sent from God to inform 
him that his sickness was unto death. Anxious for 
longer life, the royal patient offered a prayer of faith 
to God and was heard. Fifteen years were added to 
his life, and the prophet was sent to heal him. " Let 
them take a lump of figs and lay it for a plaster upon 
the boil and he shall recover," said the prophetic 
messenger. 

In firm reliance upon the virtue which the power 
of God was to impart to this simple remedy, the 
king applied it to his wound and recovered. And a 
similar reliance upon the blood of Christ as the 
means of healing your guilty soul, my reader, is 
the faith that saves. To use the homely phrase of 
Thomas Watson, you must by a mental act " spread 
the sacred medicine of his blood upon your soul," 



276 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

saying as you do it, "Heal my soul for I have 
sinned," and looking, while you pray, for the removal 
of the pain of guilt from your conscience, and for the 
springing up of that sweet peace in your heart which 
is the sure result of an unmixed faith in the blood of 
Christ, and you will be justified. 

The following incident contains a singular but 
beautiful conception of faith. 

"What is the foundation of your hope?" said a 
minister to a sick native of a South Sea isle. 

" O," he replied, " I saw an immense mountain 
with precipitous sides, on which I tried to climb; 
but when I reached a considerable height I lost my 
hold and fell to the bottom. Sad and fatigued, I 
went to a distance and sat down to weep. While 
weeping I saw a drop of blood fall upon that mount- 
ain, and m a moment it was dissolved. That mount- 
ain was my sins, and the drop which fell upon it was 
one drop of the precious blood of Jesus, by which the 
mountain of my guilt must be melted away." 

Still another conception of justifying faith is con- 
tained in the following passage from the life of a 
devoted servant of Christ. 

When that eminently holy man, the Rev. Charles 



I 



THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 277 

Simeon, was seeking Christ, he groped as in Cim- 
merian darkness through three long months of bitter 
grief for sin. At length he read this remark in a 
sermon by Bishop Wilson : " The Jews knew what 
they did when they transferred their sin to the head 
of their offering," 

These simple words shed a flood of light upon his 
heart. He saw that just as the scape-goat carried 
away the sins of the Jews, so Jesus takes away the 
sins of those who trust in him for that purpose. See- 
ing this he cried out : 

" What ! may I transfer all my guilt to an- 
other? Has God provided an offering for me that 
I may lay my sins on his head? Then, God willing, 
I will not bear them on my own soul one moment 
longer." 

Thus Mr. Simeon cast his sins on the head of 
Christ, believing that they would no longer be charged 
against him. What was the result? The gloom of 
his soul dispersed. The tempest in his heart was 
calmed. The smile of Jesus beamed with hourly in- 
creasing brightness upon his spirit, and a few morn- 
ings after he awoke shouting : " Jesus Christ is risen 
to-day! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" 



278 PLEASAKT PATHWAYS. 

" From that hour," as he testifies, " peace flowed * ' 
in rich abundance into my soul. I had the sweetest 
access to God through my blessed Saviour !" 

All these different conceptions of faith are but so 
many different modes of expression, either of which 
may be chosen by a penitent if it will aid him in ex- 
ercising that inward, undoubting, unyielding reliance 
upon Christ for present pardon, which is the essence 
of true faith. You may claim him as your scape-goat 
carrying your sins into the wilderness ; you may look 
at his blood as falling on your sins and melting them 
away ; you may regard his blood as medicine healing 
your soul, while by a mental act you spread it upon 
yourself; you may bind yourself with his promise as 
to the rope which Jesus holds, expecting him to raise 
you up to the rock which is higher than you; you 
may put yourself into God's hands to be lowered into 
the vale of abasement, in which the flower of pardon 
grows ; or you may touch the border of his garment — 
it is all one, only be sure that you rely on the merit 
of Christ alone for present pardon. 

On Christ only ! Mark that word only ! and that 
you may understand its significance, read the follow- 
ing illustration : 



THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 279 

An ancient allegory describes two boys, who, 
having to cross a morass by a dangerous path, stood 
trembling, and fearing to attempt it unaided. A 
strong man, with loving aspect, offers to conduct 
them. Placing himself between them, and offering 
each a hand, he said to them, " Put your hands in 
mine /" 

One of the boys obeyed, and placed his hand in the 
open palm of his guide. The other said, "Not so, 
sir. I will take your hand in mine. I am strong, 
and can cling to you firmly, if we meet with danger." 

Thus joined to their guide, they began their journey 
over the marsh. At first the path was wide enough 
for the three to walk abreast. Gradually it grew 
narrower, until it became a mere ridge barely suffi- 
cient for one person to tread upon. On either side 
a deep ditch yawned upon the travelers. Then the 
boys trembled. Having no foothold, their safety 
depended entirely on their hold upon the friendly 
guide. The boy who had refused to put his hand in 
the guide's, soon found himself unable to hold on to 
the hand he grasped. His muscles and joints were 
not strong enough to bear his weight, and, afler 
several painful struggles, his fingers relaxed their 



280 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

grasp, and he fell into the ditch and perished. The 
other boy, havmg his hand in that of his powerful . 
guide, was borne along in perfect safety. The hand l| 
that held him was mighty to save, and he soon found 
himself on safe and solid ground beyond the dreaded 
morass. 

Let this allegory teach you, that in coming to God 
for pardon you must put yourself into Christ's hand, 
just as the latter boy put his hand into the guide's. 
You must rely for forgiveness solely on the fact that 
he died for you. That is putting yourself into 
Christ's hands. If you mix with that reliance a secret 
trust m your personal excellences, or in the merit of 
your own repentance, you will be talcing hold of his 
hand instead of putting your hand into his. That 
trust in yourself will prevent the victory of your 
faith. Your personal excellences are lighter than 
flecks of foam in God's sight. Eepentance has no 
merit. Faith has no merit. They are required be- 
cause they imply states of mind which are essential 
to a saving reception of Christ. Chrisfs blood alone 
saves. "Not by works of righteousness which we 
have done, but according to his mercy he saved us," 
says the inspired apostle. Your faith must, there- 



THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 281 

fore, turn away from every thought of merit in your- 
self, and fix its eye on Christ alone, saying, with a 
certain poor sailor : 

" I'm a poor sinner and nothing at all ; 
But Jesus Christ is my all and in aU." 

Or, with the more elegant, but equally orthodox, poet : 

'''-Just as lam, withont one plea 
But that Thy blood was shed for me, 
And that Thou bidd'st me come to thee, 
Lamb of God, I come ! 

"e7w5^ as lam, and waiting not 
To rid myself of one dark blot, 
To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, 
Lamb of God, I come I 

"e/w5^ as lam, poor, wretched, blind, 
Sight, riches, healing of the mind. 
Yea, all I need in Thee to find, 

Lamb of God, I come I 

"cTms^ as lam thou wilt receive, 

"Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve ; 

Because Thy promise I believe, 

Lamb of God, I come I 

^^Just as lam, Thy love unknown 
Has broken every barrier down ; 
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone, 

Lamb of God, I come !" 

Now then, beloved penitent, having shown you 
what faith is, and having guarded you against mixing 



282 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

the dross of self-righteousness with your trust in 
Christ, let me exhort you to believe at once — just as 
you are. Your heart may seem very hard, very 
dark, very wicked ; all sorts of fears may be trem- 
bling within it, and you may appear to yourself to be 
at an infinite distance from Christ. Be it all so and 
worse, I, nevertheless, assure you, that if you have 
solemnly covenanted to give up all sin and to accept 
pardon from the lips of Jesus, as God's free unmerited 
gift, you are on the threshhold of the Mngdor}i of God. 
Only believe, and you will be saved this instant! 
Look up ! the Saviour is close to thee. Touch the 
hem of his garment ! Say in your heart, " He heal- 
eth my soul." Hold firmly to that confidence ! O 
how sweet it is to trust ! Don't you feel it so ? 
Does a sweet calm steal over your heart while you 
confide in him? Does Christ appear more precious 
to thee than life? Does the Holy Spirit move thee 
to cry, Abba, father ? If so, joy to thee, my brother 
in Christ, thou art saved ! That calm is the peace of 
God. That love to Christ is the divinely born prin- 
ciple of regeneration. Thou art saved ! That cry is 
begotten by the Spirit witnessing your adoption. 
Glory be to God's holy name ! O rejoice ! rejoice ! 



THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 283 

Sing with the prophet, " Lord, I will praise thee : 
though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turn- 
ed away, and thou comfortest me. Behold, God is 
my salvation; I will trusty and not he afraid^ for the 
Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song ; he also 
is become my salvation." 

Should any lingering doubts assail you, do not 
cast away your new-born confidence, nor give way to 
idle reasonings, but repeat the act of faith ! Put your 
soul into Christ's hands in the spirit of the Highland 
boy, and keep it there. Say to Him : " I commit my 
poor soul into thy hands, O blessed Jesus, to be par- 
doned, renewed, and saved. I am persuaded thou 
dost now accept and save m^e ^according to thy faith- 
ful word, and that thou wilt keep me in the possession 
of thy favor. I am thine^ and thou, O blessed Jesus, 
art MINE forever." Let nothing induce thee to sur- 
render this inward persuasion, and, depend upon it, 
Christ will honor it and comfort you. 

If you are still in doubt, ponder the following 
hymn. Kead it line by line. Adopt its thoughts and 
words for your own. Yield your heart to its teach- 
ings, and it will lead you to a manifested and pardon- 
ing Saviour : 



284 PLEASANT PATHWAYS. 

" Arise, my soul, arise ; 

Shake off thy guilty fears ; 
The bleeding Sacrifice 
In my hehalf appears ; 
Before the throne my Surety stands, 
My name is written on his hands. 

*' Five bleeding wounds he bears, 

Eeceived on Calvary ; 
They pour effectual prayers, 
They strongly plead for me : 
Forgive him, forgive, they cry, 
Nor let that ransom' d sinner die. 

'' The Father hears him pray, 

His dear anointed One : 
He cannot turn away 
The presence of his Son: 
His Spirit answers to the blood. 
And tells me I am born of God. 

" My God is reconciled ; 

His pard'ning voice I hear ; 
He owns me for his child ; 
I can no longer fear : 
With confidence I now draw nigh, 
And Father, Abba, Father, ciy." 

And now, beloved joutli, having guided you to 
your Saviour and mine, I must bid you farewell. 
When you took up this little book you were an heir 
of hell. Now, if you have heeded my counsels, you 
are saved by faith. Give Gcd the glory and perse- 



I 



THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 285 

vere in well-doing. You will have difficulties, but 
God will give you grace to overcome them."^ Onlj 
hold fast the beginning of your confidence, fight 
a good fight, keep the faith, let not sin defile your gar- 
ments, and God will " keep thee from the hour of 
temptation," and give thee to " eat of the tree of life 
which is in the midst of the paradise of God." May 
it be your lot and mine to swell the number which 
have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb, and 
to enjoy, in sweet, inseparable companionship, " the 
rest which remaineth for the people of God !" 

* The diflB.ciilties and temptations to which, the yoilng Christian 
is exposed are fully explained and illustrated in ^'-Tlie PatJi of 
Life^'' by the author of this volume. The reader will find much 
to encourage him in that work, which is earnestly commended 
to his consideration as a fitting sequel to this. 



THE END. 



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